/ 


O  P  T  I  M  O  S 


HORACE     TRAUBEL 


NEW  YORK:    1910 
B.   W.   HUEBSCH 


Copyright  1910 
HORACE  TRAUBEL 


PRINTED   IN   U.    S.    A. 


CONTENTS 

OPTIMOS 

Optimos,  3 

A    GREAT    LIGHT   WAS    PASSED    TO    ME 

A  great  light  was  passed  to  me,  9 

The  nights,  the  days,  hold  me  in  thrall,  11 

O  anterior  soul,  15 

0  to  grapple  with  slavery,  17 

In  the  western  sky  at  the  close  of  day    20 
In  the  night,  wandering,  21 
Rooted  in  quickening  soil,  23 

1  am  on  leave  of  absence,  25 
Freedom  transcendent,  26 

I  do  not  say  the  sunset  is  perfect,  30 

Down  into  hell  I  passed,  32 

With  your  hand  in  mine,  35 

The  word  of  all  words,  37 

Alone  in  the  desert  I  stood,  40 

In  the  youth  of  my  turbulent  spirit,  43 

When  the  great  artist  appeared,  46 

I  remember,  48 

In  the  tree  the  sap,  49 

You  send  your  winged  craft  out,  50 

I  track  upstream  the  spirit's  call,  52 

i 

THE   GOLDEN    AGE    IS    IN    MY    HEART   TODAY 

The  golden  age  is  in  my  heart  today,  55 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning?  58 

I  have  had  such  joy  on  the  earth,  61 

I  do  not  ask  things  to  go  my  way,  63 

Why  do  I  feel  so  good?  66 

Come  up  where  you  belong,  68 

Let  me  be  cheerful  for  you  all,  70 

When  I  go  round  holding  my  head  up,  74 

Why  shouldn't  I  be  stuck  on  myself?  77 

There  dont  seem  to  be  any  reason  for  it,  80 

I'll  not  say  hard  things  about  you,  dear  world,  83 

When  I  cross  the  river  in  the  morning,  87 

When  I  go  home  late  at  night,  90 

Power  is  not  rule,  94 


M369439 


vi  CONTENTS 

JUST   TO    OWN   MY   OWN   SOUL 

Just  to  own  my  own  soul,  97 

Let  me  be  self  approved,  99 

I  pray  to  my  soul,  102 

There  is  not  enough,  103 

My  heaven  is  full  of  words  but  I  desire  love,  104 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place,  107 

When  I  was  young,  109 

I,  too,  have  a  big  place  to  fill  in  this  little  world,  111 

I  have  an  appointment  with  God,  114 

They  say  I  am  too  familiar  with  God,  118 

When  I  am  most  at  home  with  myself,  121 

Let  us  be  silent  from  now  on,  123 

Only  to  let  things  go,  126 

BEFORE  BOOKS  AND  AFTER  BOOKS 

Before  books  and  after  books,  131 

After  all  is  said,  133 

Come,  gentlemen,  ladies,  masters,  135 

The  master  waited  long,  136 

The  rushed  and  crowded  auditors,  139 

I  too  have  something  to  say  to  you,  141 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  145 

Who  shall  give  that  hour  to  words?  147 

My  plain  song  is  not  heard,  150 

The  sayers  of  words  have  said,  154 

That  is  what  the  song  meant  to  me,  157 

While  the  orchestra  plays  you,  mighty  symphony,  160 

The  great  poets  revealed,  161 

To    YOU,   GOING    OR    COMING,    O    WOMAN 

To  you,  going  or  coming,  O  woman,  165 

Before  time  was  woman,  167 

What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  woman,  O  man?  168 

Until  now  the  flesh,  173 

The  sacred  body  of  my  love,  175 

Why  should  I  hold  back,  dear  body?  178 

You  are  going  to  have  a  baby,  182 

And  now  the  baby  is  born,  185 

The  little  old  mother  at  the  street  corner,  188 

They  came  to  me  and  told  me  you  were  dead,  192 

I  have  tried  to  keep  a  little  of  myself,  195 


CONTENTS  vii 

I    GO    WHERE    MY    HEART    GOES 

I  go  where  my  heart  goes,  199 

And  this  is  what  love  said,  202 

Swear  to  me,  said  my  love,  204 

If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for,  205 

Love  knows  best  what  to  do  with  love,  207 

I  spend  my  days  and  nights  with  those  I  love,  210 

When  I  am  easy  about  love,  214 

If  I  contained  enough  love,  217 

I  think  my  love  does  not  know,  221 

I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you,  224 

When  you  defer  to  love  in  a  book,  226 

I  take  love  at  its  word,  227 

I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all,  230 

I'm  just  talking  all  the  time  about  love,  232 

All  ways  lead  to  my  heart,  236 

I  do  not  feel  grateful,  241 

WE   WERE   JUST    BROTHERS 

We  were  just  brothers,  245 

0  my  dead  comrade,  247 

What  have  I  to  do  with  lives,  248 
Come,  he  said,  I  love  you,  250 
And  we  buried  him,  251 

1  love  to  go  among  my  dear  comrades  the  people,  252 
Out  of  the  crowd  he  came,  255 

I  want  to  pay  my  bill  to  you,  257 

There  was  nothing  remarkable,  262 

I  can  be  of  much  use  to  you,  dear  comrades,  264 

I  just  give  you  what  I've  got,  267 

As  I  look  into  your  grave,  270 

This  is  stock  taking  day,  273 

Somehow,  somehow,  somehow,  277 

At  West  Hills  in  October,  277 

Tens  of  thousands  of  soldiers,  278 

THE    PEOPLE   ARE   THE    MASTERS    OF   LIFE 

The  people  are  the  masters  of  life,  281 

The  legend  of  the  road,  284 

I,  a  curious  observer,  285 

Proclaim  for  me  the  law  of  redemption,  287 

My  brothers,  listen,  290 


The  wave  that  would  drown  me  bears  me  no  ill  will, 

It  buoys  me  up  and  casts  me  down,  it  tosses  me  in  its  foam  and  whips 

me  into  subjection, 
It  makes  me  think  little  of  myself  and    it  makes  me  think   much  of 

myself, 

Even  as  it  threatens  it  sings,  even  as  it  strikes  it  forgives, 
It  offends  and  it  regrets,  a  sunchild  it  is  whimsical, 
It  is  my  whipsnapping  master,  it  is  my  subject  begging  to  know  my 

wish. 
Do  you  imagine  that  this  wave  is  the  wave  you  pushed  your  boat  out 

into  in  the  breaking  day? 
Rather  was  it  one  wave  of  deep  seas  inhabiting  me,  mysteriously  each 

day  engrossed  with  reconciling  this  self  which  you  see  with  that 

other  self  which  you  do  not  see. 


OPTIMOS 

In  some  faces  I  meet  I  see  vice  rampant  and  virtue  veiled, 
In  some  faces  I  meet  I  see  virtue  smiling  and  vice  curtained, 
In  vice  I  know  vice,  in  virtue  I  know  virtue,  I   stretch  the 

boundaries  of  neither, 

I  do  not  stand  apart  to  judge  but  to  witness: 
I  hold  no  discourse  with  fragments,  supposing  them  com 
plete  men  and  women, 
To  each  I  accord  my  whole  faith  and  from  each  I  receive 

in  full  stream  the  returning  tide. 

Is  it  my  call  to  set  men  in  classes,  good,  bad,  indifferent? 
Is  it  my  part  to  sentence  man  for  one  sin  or  pardon  him  for 

one  virtue? 
Is  it  my  part  to  distrust  the   tree  at  its  roots  because  its 

leaves  in  the  fall  are  dead? 
Is  it  on  my  palette  to  color  the  sun?     Can  I  pour  from  my 

gardenpot  rainfalls  and  seadrifts? 
Back  of  me  are  a  thousand  friendly  arms  holding  me  to 

modest  judgment, 
Before  me  are  as  many  thousand  assurances  demanding  that 

I  give  men,  women,  myself,  time  for  fulfilment. 
I  have  toiled  on  stony  roads,  the  hot  sun  overhead,  in  my 

heart  the  northern  ice, 
In  the  winter's  night  the  snow  beat  across  my  face,  the  north 

winds  accused  my  faith,  in  my  heart  the  tropic  heat, 
The  word  you  hear  out  of  my  lips  is  but  an  emissary, 
The  word  is  not  me,  it  but  announces  me — 
The  song  I  hear  from  the  illustrious  woman  is  not  the  song 

of  her  heart: 
Underneath  the  song  which  the  audience  applauds  I  hear  the 

real  song  framed  in  her  immortal  desires — 

3 


4  OPTIMOS 

The  artist  painted  his  picture,  it  was  honorably  hung,  it 

received  the  prize  of  the  salon, 
Was  the  artist  here  in  this  paint  and  canvas?    Lo!  as  I  look 

these  vanish,  a  dim  beckoning  figure  appears,  I  follow. 
I  would  say,  do  not  let  this  mystery  worry  you — 
At  its  heart  this  mystery  is  revelation,  in  its  final  solution 

it  offers  a  cup  benign, 
If  these  things  I  see  were  all  that  was  to  be  seen  I  too  would 

seek  the  roadside  and  dissolve  myself  in  grief, 
But  these  things  I  see  are  only  forerunners,  signals,  flags, 

standards     raised    whose     significance     is    yet    to    be 

known, 
I  use  them,  see  them  used,  as  I  eat  my  dinner  at  noonday, 

joyously,  not  too  much  dwelling  upon  it — 
They  are  ships  to  sail  me  forth,  wings  for  flight,  feet  for 

marches, 

They  are  lingerings  this  side,  arrested  deeds,  hesitated  hero 
isms,  shamed  fears, 
They  have  no  apologies  to  offer — they  are  as  truly  a  part  of 

the  perfect  whole  as  this  is  consistent  with  itself. 
As  I  look  out  these  windows,  as  I  pass  where  men  crowd, 

where  this  silent  man  is  alone, 
As  I  take  solace  of  degradation  and  bring  to  lips  condemned 

eloquent  passwords  to  the  future, 
As  I  decline  to  sit  on  this  bench  as  judge  over  any  man  or 

any  object, 
As  I  stand  not  indifferent  to  anything  nor  as  a  spectator 

looking  at  something  outside  myself, 
As  cloudbarriers  do  not  distress  me — the  cloud,  my  sun  its 

creator, 
As  I  am  reborn  in  every  person  I  meet,  every  event,  every 

starburst, 
As   I   can  be  severely  arraigned  by  myself,    never  by  any 

other, 


OPTIMOS  5 

So  do  I  melt  all  coined  gold  into  earthveins  again,  render 
all  bricks  back  to  claybeds,  return  all  stones  to  their 
quarries,  that  men  may  meet  men  everywhere  without 
interferences — 

So,  in  all  the  faces  I  see,  maimed,  passionbruted,  hounded, 
whatever  the  cursory  veils  they  bear, 

All  bringing  to  me  my  own  self  again  and  again,  only  in 
other  dress, 

I  am  recognized,  welcomed. 


The  master  workman — when  will  he  come? 

Will  he  come  wearing  a  collar,  on  this  collar  another's  name? 

The  great  city  was  beleaguered,  yet  its  foe  was  its  own   self,  a  heart 

within  its  heart: 
The  great  city  was  delivered,  yet  its  walls  were  taken   down,  it  was 

made  open  to  the  world: 

Nobody  reigned,  nobody  was  afraid,  the  fruit  off  the  land  tasted  sweet: 
Men  suffered  but  were  not  unhappy,  death  came  but  these  men  knew 

the  secret  of  death: 
The  children  lingered  longer  in  the  fields,    they  picked  no  flowers, 

others  with  equal  title  and  love  were  to  pass  this  way: 
The  farms  were  not  fenced  in,  the  doors  were  for  the  wind  and  rain, 

not  for  man. 

The  master  workman — when  will  he  come? 

We  crouch  in  the  wilds  of  our  black  cities,  we  die   of  gluttony,  we 

die  of  starvation, 
Yet  with  one  ear  listen,  listen. 


A  GREAT  LIGHT  WAS 
PASSED  TO  ME 


I  am  the  stream,  I  float  your  ship, 

I  am  the  man  at  the  wheel — I  am  the  stars  by  which  he  steers, 

I  am  the  fountain  and  the  drinker; 

Into  me,  from  me,  is  the  drift  of  every  tide. 

The  seawaves  roll  and  submerge  me  and  drown  me, 

Yet  I  am  not  submerged  or  drowned, 

But,  safe  and  well,  singing  of  life  and  the  ideal, 

With  the  seastorm  present  and  the  helmsman  as  he  shudders, 

Here  on  your  doorstep  as  you  loiter, 

There  by  your  bedside  as  you  sleep  and  dream, 

Action  in  me,  and  the  impulse  of  action  in  me, 

Touch  every  hour  to  love. 


10  OPTIMOS 

And  though  I  was  misunderstood  and  my  oldtime  compan 
ions  distrusted  me,  I  did  not  turn  back, 

For  when  the  soul  is  once  started  on  the  soul's  journey  it 
can  never  turn  back. 

Who  are  you,  any  one,  who  can  remain  unmoved  when  the 

light  breaks  upon  you? 
Who  can  say  it  does  not  concern  him — who  can  say  it  is 

just  as  well  not  to  see  as  to  see? 
Who  can  ever  be  the  same  child  or  woman  or  man  again 

after  the  day  has  broken? 
Who  can  admit  there  is  anything  else  in  the  world  after 

this  has  come  to  the  world? 
Dear  love,  you  woman  or  you  man,  known  or  unknown,  this 

light  has  come  to  the  world  through  you  as  much  as 

through  any  other: 

Do  you  not  feel  it  possessing  you?  do  you  not  feel  it  visit 
ing  you  with  mad  vehemence? 
Do  you  not  feel  it  flowing,  crowding,  pushing,  into  every 

corner  of  your  being? 
Is  there  any  nook  of  you  left  vacant  after  its  electric  flood 

has  swept  into  you? 
Can  you  now  go  on  with  your  old  life  as  if  nothing  had 

happened? 

God!  everything  has  happened  in  this  flash  of  revelation: 
The  whole  universe  has  happened, 
All  of  love  in  all  of  life  has  happened, 
All  your  debt  to  all  the  past  has  happened, 
All  your  forgotten  kinship  to  the  people  has  happened, 
And  the  terrible  thirst  for  justice  has  happened, 
And  all  sad  things  have  happened  in  gladness  at  last, 
And  all  things  out  of  place  have  happened  in  place  at  last, 
And  all  old  enmity  has  happened  in  friendship  at  last, 
And  the  mistakes  of  judgment  have  happened  in  restitution, 


OPTIMOS  11 

And  the  uncertainty  about  the  future  has  happened  in  cer 
tainty, 

And  the  soul  is  wholly  satisfied,  for  the  soul  has  happened 
after  many  burials  of  the  soul. 

I  do  not  wait  to  see  where  others  go,  I  go  on  my  own  ac 
count: 

I  go — in  the  crowd  if  the  crowd  goes,  alone  if  the  crowd 
holds  back: 

There  is  much  to  keep  me,  there  is  more  to  send  me  on. 

Do  not  get  in  my  way,  do  not  attempt  to  block  my  passage: 

I  must  go — for  life  or  death  must  go,  for  love  or  hate: 

Out  of  my  way:  hands  off:  damn  you,  let  go! 

I  do  not  say  farewell — I  say:  Till  tomorrow! 

A  great  light  was  passed  to  me. 


THE   NIGHTS,    THE   DAYS,    HOLD    ME   IN 
THRALL 

The  nights,  the  days,  hold  me  in  thrall, 

Toils  of  men  and  women  drag  my  faith  to  the  earth — 

Furrowed  with  pain,  the  casual  cares, 

I  long — I  look — I  reach  forth  to  life. 

Release!     Escape! 

Shall  I  speak  of  the  door  swung  wide,  of  the  unbarred  gates? 

After  the  vigil  I  step  across  the  borderline, 
I  take  my  place  with  the  pioneers. 

Have  I  met  the  hour  patiently,  without  fear,  at  the  portal? 
Now  my  name  is  called,  now  the  lip  of  my  love  has  spoken: 


12  OPTIMOS 

Do  I  mistake  you,  O  divine  Signaler?   is  it  after  all  some 

other  soul  that  is  hailed? 
My  self  is  my  answer: 
There's  that  in  my  heart  responds,  meeting  the  call  with 

equal  voice,  establishing  forever  the  unspeakable  bond! 

Bond  that  does  not  bind — bond  that  frees — bond  that  dis 
covers  and  bestows. 

Look!     I  am  flushed  with  inexhaustible  possessions! 

The  old  measures  vanish,  I  am  expanded  to  infinite  sweep. 

O  world!  Not  dead  to  you — only  seeing  you,  knowing  you, 
at  last, 

Mixed  with  countless  worlds,  knowing  with  you  your  com 
panions  also: 

O  year!     Not  dead  to  you — only  seeing  you,  knowing  you, 

at  last, 
Mixed  with  all  time,  untangling  the  knotted  thread: 

O  world!      O  year! — 

Before  birth  seeing  birth,  after  life  seeing  life! 

The  infinite  blue,  heaven's  fond  eye,  opens  upon  me. 

O  voice,  mastering  me,  making  me  too  master — 
My  ear  is  close,  I  hear  the  syllables  fall, 
Waves  on  shores  of  the  farther  worlds,  waves  on  shores  of 
the  day. 

The  clouds  part:     O  face — O  face — O  face! — 
Face  smiling  upon  me — smiling  me  wings,  buoyant  beyond 
the  discarded  cheapened  present. 


OPTIMOS  13 

(You,  too,  O  present,  still  remaining, 
Duly  visiting  my  heart,  not  forbidden, 
Yet  yielding  the  place  supreme. ) 

I  am  all  eye — O  God!  you  are  all  speech: 

Melody  celestial — sight  and  voice,  color  and  tone,  warring 

no  more, 
In  the  boundless  blue  uplifted. 

Whose  hand  touches  me? — my  brow — my  breast — my  ow| 

unasking  hand — 
Leading  me  out  of  self  to  self? 

Divine  form — mother,   father — sex  only  now  standing  re, 

vealed,  the  union  irreversible: 
Divine  form,  I  made  whole  in  you, 
The  elements  diverse  here  blended. 

This  minute  grown  infinite,  the  far  worlds  spread  before 

me, 
The  endless  drift  of  soul,  the  long  stretch  of  faces,  all  lit  by 

the  divine  sun — 
Or   swift   or   slow  or  early  or  late  the   line  not  anywhere 

broken, 
All — all — equally  sustained,  swept  in  the  same  destiny,  on 

sea  and  land  of  life, 
The  peak  lit  for  all,  the  triumph  inevitable. 

O  my  soul!   look  yet  again: 

There  too  are  you,  a  figure  in  the  panorama, 

On  your  brow  the  dawn  has  set  its  beauteous  beam, 

Here  with  me — there  not  with  me. 

Death  fills  me  with  its  abundance. 


14  OPTIMOS 

What  is  this  flood,  overcoming  body  and  sense? 

I  feel  the  walls  of  my  skull  crack,  the  barriers  part,  the  sun- 
flood  enter — 

Love,  lore,  not  lost,  only  magnified,  floating  eternal  seas  of 
essence — 

Before  and  behind  births  and  deaths,  spiritual  gravitation, 
the  emergence  evermore  expanding. 

O  soul,  have  I  lost  you  or  found  you? 
Found!  the  faultless  circle  born  at  last  to  you, 
After  the  waiting  years. 

Far  eras  behind,  far  eras  ahead,  the  simple  few  years  I  fin 
ger, 

Shafts  from  the  central  sun, 
Speeding  for  fuller  fruition  the  orbs  of  space. 

Back  to  the  first  word  of  speech, 
On  to  the  last  utterance  of  seers, 

My  soul,  knowing  its  own,  wrapt  in  its  protean  habit, 
catches  the  perfect  song. 

God!     I  am  circled — I  am  drunk  with  the  influx  of  life- 
Wheeled  in  your  orbit — given  the  word  I  would  speak  yet 

must  withhold — 
Leaving  you,  O  my  brother,  each  one,  to  say  it  for  yourself. 

Brothers,  worlds,  I  greet  you! 

The  wheel  turns,  the  boundless  prospect  opens: 

All,  all  complicate — the  light  bearing  limitlessly  the  bur 
dens  of  all. 

Do  you  think  that  you  are  missed,  that  the  large  heartbeats 
not  for  you? 

That  somewhere  on  the  road  you  must  faint  and  die? 


OPTIMOS  15 

Strength  will  be  given  for  all  your  need, 

And  the  weakest,  when  the  night  comes  which  is  the  day, 

Will  greet  the  king,  a  giant  in  stature  and  grace. 

Now  the  immortal  years,  the  ceaseless  round  realized— 
The  doubts  shorn  of  wing  and  foot, 

The  farthest  league  nearest,  and   the   multiplied  infinities 
choking  here  in  my  breast. 

O  my  questioner!  you  do  not  suspect  me — you  suspect  your 
self; 

Tomorrow,  seeing  yourself,  you  will  see  me, 
And  the  illumined  spirit,  passing  the  portal, 
Godgrown,  will  hail  me  proudly. 


O    ANTERIOR   SOUL 

0  anterior  soul!     I  am  emitted  of  you  to  the  free  spaces: 
The   light  receives   me,    gravitation   receives  me,    the   sea 

wets  me  with  its  waves. 

1  am  balanced   in  the  gases,  the  boiling  cauldron  swings  in 

infinite  space, 
I  am  safe  in  the  fire,  I  ascend  the  slopes  of  flame: 

0  sun's  self — O  nebulous  prophecies — O  solace  of  prom 

ised  restoration! 

Cool  the  midnight  air — moist  the  breeze  of  the  morning: 

1  sleep,  I  am  resting,  I  am  happy. 

An  atom  of  dust  in  the  whirling  globe, 

Eager  to  live,  quickened  on  the  wind's  passion, 

Floating  in  sunbeams,  thrown  into  air  to  fall  again, 


16  OPTIMOS 

Potent  in  rain  and   light,  yielding   my  life   to  the  desiring 
years. 

Open  the  doors  wide! 

I  am  born  to  new  purposes,  I  turn  in  the  lessening  spiral, 

I   reach   uncertain  arms   to  the  love  that  I  attract — to  the 

love  I  solicit: 
By  the  dust  am  I  entered  to  the  new  areas  of  sight. 

Robed  in  flesh,  the  flesh  my  house,  the  flesh's  joys  my  joys, 
Yet  never  for  the  flesh,  never  passing  to  it  my  crown, 
Still  to  the  anterior  soul  retiring  at  will, 
Refreshment,  revivification,  recrudescence  mine. 

I  am  transmuted  ten  thousand  times, 

I   am   man,   I   am   beast,  I   am  the   soul   of  the   song  you 

sing: 

I  am  that  by  which  the  orator  speaks  and  the  poet  writes, 
Seized  from  countless  prior  lives  for  this  life, 
On  earth's  fields  won  to  the  new  exhibit,  the  expanded 

powers. 

I  walk  erect,  I  trade,  I  am  the  lawyer  in  the  court, 
I  labor  with  the  chaingang,  I  am  sailor  and  soldier. 
I  do  not  stop  to  count  the  years  of  the  journey: 
Why  should  I  stop  for  that  which  never  stops,  for  that  as  to 
which  I  am  unconcerned? 

I  am  discoverer  and  sceptic,  I  wrangle  and  am  at  peace, 
I  am  the  knowing  dreamer  and  the  unknowing  mathema 
tician, 

I  set  forth  the  new  social  order,  I  justify  the  theorem, 
1  lift  fact  high  above  reason,  its  circle  is  equal  with  heav 
en's  span, 


OPTIMOS  17 

Socrates  and  Sancho  Panza  are  the  two  sides  of  my  demon 
stration. 

On,  on,  I  pass,  pausing  not  with  events, 
Little   by   little   the   denied    is   accepted,    the    darkness    is 
lighted,  the  seeming  faithless  is  made  faithful. 

Now  I  am  at  the  human  line:  dare  I  still  pass? 
Warnings  are  sent  me — father,  mother,  sister,  plead — 
Loved  one,  most  loved  one,  my  other  self,  tempts  me  to 
stay,  to  turn  my  back  to  the  inviting  hills. 


There  is  a  figure  on  the  height: 

I  see  it — O  it  embraces  me! 

It  presses  a  kiss  to  my  lips, 

It  sets  me  sail  on  immortal  seas, 

It  vanishes,  it  comes  again,  it  laves  me  in  the  delicious 
stream  spread  in  its  unmeasured  hands, 

It  is  day  by  day  my  single  joy,  my  overmastering  convic 
tion, 

It,  figure  of  light,  its  forehead  to  the  sun, 

It,  the  anterior  soul,  taking  me,  who  am  god,  back  to  god, 

Immersing  the  ubiquitous  life  in  its  own  waters. 


O   TO    GRAPPLE   WITH    SLAVERY 

O  to  grapple  with  slavery,  to  shake  off  obstructions  and  set 
myself  free! 

In  the  midst  of  tasks  exacted  by  the  routine  of  the  day, 
In  the  revel  at  night,  in  the  very  crown  of  the  dance, 
In   the   hours  of  sleep  or  at  daybreak  as  the  first  sunbeams 
crept  in  my  window  imploring, 


18  OPTIMOS 

Ever  arousing  me,  ever  the  call  renewing, 

The  step  heard,  the  brush  of  aerial  garments, 

Ever  my  first  flush  strides   to  the   threshold,  the  rapt   gazing 

forth: 

Whose  voice  had  called?     What  was  the  baffling  cry? 
I  strained  my  eyes,  I  threw  my  ears  open — 
O  coward  me,  fearing,  fearing  to  close  the  door  behind  me, 

suspicious  of  the  herald! 
O   coward   me,  creeping  back  to  the   comfortable  rooms, 

hugging    close    the    fire,   again    and  again  embracing, 

pledging,  the  felicities  easiest  to  my  hand! 

In  me  desire  to  go,  in  me  also  desire  to  stay, 
In  me  the  voice  doubted  of,  the  skies  threatening, 
In  me  perpetual  struggle,  repeated  surrender,  contempt  of 
self. 

Days  pass  and  new  days  come: 

0  deliverance!      O  revelation! 

1  was  tried  and  lost  only  to  be  again  tried  and  win, 
I  had  by  own  act  chosen  prison  walls  to  freedom, 

In  the  ways  unknown  I  had  set  my  own  phantoms  to  shake 

me  from  my  ardent  ideals, 
But  the  call  was  never  abandoned,  my  instinct  was  never 

dead. 

Well  have  I  treasured  the  dawn  of  release, 

The  melodic  prodigal  voice  appealing,  the  odors  of  the 
morning  in  my  nostrils,  the  haste  to  challenge  the  un 
certain: 

Well  for  my  arm  that  it  no  longer  hesitated: 

No  more  now  had  I  reached  the  threshold  than  I  closed  the 
irrevocable  door: 

Victory!  the  soul  transported! 


OPTIMOS  19 

The  call  came  near — I  stept  gravely,  loyally,  into  the  genial 

woods: 
Had  I  ever  known  day  before?   here   was   day  at   last,  ten 

thousand  suns  flooding  the  vista  with  light. 

Then  I  knew  what  it  was  to  be  with  the  universe  alone, 

Then  I  knew  what  the  voice  had  provided  for  me, 

Then   had   I   become   the   near  companion   of  winds  and 

streams  and  ample  skies, 
Then  had  I  entered  by  that  voice  long  distrusted,  by  that 

figure  unveiled  now  and  ever  pressing  to  my  side, 
A  world  immortal. 

Now  I  do  not  sing  songs  through  leaves  of  books:  I  sing 
them  chorally  with  forest  leaves  and  field  grasses, 

Now  I  do  not  miss  in  sunbeams  the  thrift  of  their  inarticu 
late  treasures, 

Now  I  do  not  button  my  coat  against  the  winds:  I  offer  my 
self  to  the  contact  of  the  winds,  they  flush  me  through 
with  music, 

Now  I  do  not  fear  to  embark  on  seas  and  streams:  these  are 
now  my  equal  partners  divinely  serving, 

Now  I  do  not  doubt  skies  and  earths,  friendliest  monitors 
panoplying  me  with  love. 

I  go  by  days  and  nights  overswept  by  native  influences, 

I  have  lost  and  won,  but  my  loss  was  least  and  my  victory 

everything, 

For  now  is  my  visitor  victor,  my  visitor  who  was  myself, 
My  visitor  who  was  wind  and  river,  sea  and  sky, 
My  visitor  who  ever  held  me  faithful  though  errant  fears 

filled  me  with  treason, 
My  visitor  compelling  the  soul  to  immediate  allegiances,  to 

native  tones  setting  my  obedient  will. 


20  OPTIMOS 

O   to  grapple  with  slavery,  to  shake  off  obstructions  and 
set  myself  free! 


IN    THE   WESTERN   SKY    AT    THE    CLOSE   OF 

DAY 

In  the  western  sky  at  the  close  of  day, 

Over  the   fading  line  of   the  hills,  throned  in  the  lapsing 

fires, 

Appeared,  O  me,  O  my  life's  mate, 

In  guise  unmistakable,  in  mien  commanding  and  supreme, 
That  other  me,  that  other  you, 
Subduing  the  worlds  to  light. 

O  sunset  god!  on  your  cheek  flushing,  in  your  eyes  glisten 
ing, 

The  human,  making  you  whole,  and  the  simple  wish  of  a 
man  transfiguring  you. 

Sunset  here,  O  soul!      Sunrise  over  the  hills! 

This  page  is  closed,  another  page  is  opened, 

By   these   eyes   closed   others   opened,  by   these   lips  silent 

others  speaking, 
The  morrow  regnant  and  royal  in  this  flickering  flame. 

Did  you  say,  O  my  life's  mate,  that  you  saw  nothing — that 

the  space  beyond  was  unfilled? 
Look:  do  you  not  see  your  dream  confirmed? 
Listen:  is  not  that  the  song  that  your  ideal  distilled? 
For  .one  minute  close  your  stubborn  eyes:   you  will  begin  to 

see! 
Again,    close  your  .eyes,  close  them  harder:   you  will  see 

much! 


OPTIMOS  21 

At  your  heart's  threshold  then  the  complete  treasury  offered. 

The  colors  I  saw  in  the  sunset  faded,  other  colors  appeared, 
And  that  which  to  the  vision  was  not  plastic,  which  I  could 

not  control, 

To  the  soul  became  the  liberating  flame  of  life, 
Melting  all  arts  and  songs  and  all  mishaps  of  common  hours 

to  a  solution. 

0  solution,  my  master!      O  solution,  my  slave! 

1  pour  into  you  life,  you  pour  into  me  life, 
Till  both  are  full,  till  the  mixture  is  perfect. 
And  I  drain  the  divine  draught, 

Sleeping  and  waking  then  to  new  days, 
Heaven's  eye  upon  me,  my  eye  upon  heaven, 
Question  and  answer  at  last  face  to  face! 


IN   THE   NIGHT,    WANDERING 

In  the  night,  wandering, 

In  the  spaces  departed,  from  affections  that  would  stay  me, 

Beyond  the  sun  to  other  suns,  beyond  the  question  settled 
to  new  disclosures, 

Not  accepting  the  walls  of  my  house  as  final,  nor  the  voice 
I  heard  in  trade, 

At  last  possessed  of  sight,  after  long  waiting  entering  vic 
tor  to  denied  estates, 

I,  one  man,  only  testifying  to  the  gifts  of  others,  to  all  duly 
announced, 

Flushed  by  the  maddening  day. 

The  chemist's  retort,  surgery's  dissecting  knife,  the  scalpel 
.efficient, 


22  OPTIMOS 

The  discoverer  in  arctic  snows  or  tropic  heats, 

The  sailing  ship,  the  locomotive  making  continents  of  one 

name  and  intention, 
The  heated  debate,  the  speculation  of  philosophy,  the  rosy 

assurances  of  reformers, 
Gold,  influence,  suppressions  of  conscience: 
These,    offering  themselves,    would-be   agents,    to  farthest 

achievements  pledged, 
Accepted,  fused,  in  new  fires  cast,  rejected. 

I  picked  a   dried   leaf  off  the   ground,  and  with   mournful 

tones  others  called  it  dead: 
I  knew  it  was  not  dead:   over  the  cliff  rushed  its  blood,  as 

Niagara  from  the  lakes. 

What  signs  do  you  make  to  me,  you  curling  streams  and 
simple  peasant  ways  of  life? 

What  sign,  O  ocean?  What  sign,  O  sky  clouds  ever  shift 
ing? 

Signs  temporal,  full  of  beauty,  loved,  feeding  me  as  bread 
does  not, 

Satisfying  me  of  itself,  satisfying  me  because  of  its  be 
yond, 

Sign  of  unmeasured  friendly  supplication. 

The  crowd  gathers  round  me,  I  am  a  target  for  protests,  I 
stand  erect  receiving  every  dart  unharmed: 

Warnings,  heartgiven,  tearstrown,  would  deter  me  from 
resolves  commensurate  with  new  worlds  to  me  revealed: 

I  can  but  hold  you  all  in  my  life,  as  I  am  held  in  yours, 
sympathies  universal  harvesting, 

Preparing  in  myself,  seeing  prepared  in  you  by  you, 

Springs,  summers,  autumns,  winters, 

Rounded,  of  one  meaning,  never  disconsolate  or  weary. 


OPTIMOS  23 

Upon  the  painter's  canvas,  in  the  song  of  the  poet,  in  elo 
quent  deeds  never  yet  vocal, 

In  faith's  quick  vision,  seeing  the  cup  full,  drained,  ever 
refilled, 

In  all  propositions  and  all  denials,  in  evil  ways  traversed  by 
mistaken  men, 

Discerned  infallibly,  the  issue  ever  wholesome,  the  laws 
eternal  loyal  to  supreme  explications, 

Here  spoken,  here  hinted  of,  yet  again  withdrawn  until  for 
each  the  hour  of  delivery  strikes. 

The  hay  allures  me  this  summer  afternoon; 

I  cross  the  hills,  I  linger  in  odors  prodigally  spent, 

Yet  these  are  but  passports  to  seasons  and  fields  not  in  the 

program  of  daily  uses, 
These  are  but  sparks  from  fires  sunbirthed 
Whose  burdened  flash  steadies  the  erratic  eyesight 
And  brings  the  distant  near. 


ROOTED    IN    QUICKENING    SOIL 

Rooted  in  quickening  soil, 

Feeling  each  day  the  bursting  seed,  fed  and  kept  alive  by 
earth's  interior  nourishment, 

Not  relying  upon  any  other  or  expecting  any  other  to  rely 
upon  me, 

Knowing  man  can  love  man  roundly  only  when  love  is  free 
and  that  love  is  not  free  when  it  must  sue  for  recogni 
tion, 

I  stand  content  before  the  careering  storm. 

I  see  the  failure  that  often  the  applauding  multitudes  call 
success, 


24  OPTIMOS 

I  see  the  success  that  is  often  called  failure, 

I  see  that  the  seed  which  comes  to  nothing,  that  lies  in  the 
ground  making  no  sign,  is  only  postponed,  not  de 
stroyed, 

I  see  that  what  is  called  good  and  bad  in  men  must  be  parts 
of  one  substance  cooperating  to  a  single  result, 

Everywhere  I  look  do  I  see  postponements,  nowhere  I  look 
do  I  see  defeats, 

I  do  not  time  the  clock  by  what  I  see  but  by  what  I  do  not 
see, 

If  the  hands  of  the  clock  stopped  would  my  faith  be  trans 
fixed  and  dead? 

I  put  my  ear  to  the  ground,  I  hear  a  voice — it  is  the  voice 
of  the  seed  children  not  yet  called  from  their  play- 
field: 

There  is  love  that  holds  us  here,  it  refuses  still  to  yield  us  to  the 
waiting  sun,  we  love  our  earth  mother,  she  will  yet  give 
us  to  a  free  will,  therefore  be  patient,  keep  watch  for  us 
at  dawn,  the  trembling  aching  soil  will  be  eager  to  deliver  us. 

Give  man  time  to  be  man, 

Stretch  his  span  till  the  circle  is  made. 

Do   you  say  that   time  is  up,  that  the  hands  of  the  clock 

have  completed  their  circuit? 
See — no  sooner  is  the  round  complete  but  it  starts  with  the 

same  pace  and  purpose  another: 
Tireless  is  the  hand  that  winds  the  clock,  tireless  I  who 

wait. 

There  was  a  signal  sent  me  from  the  desert  dirt, 
I  push  my  hand  in  the  gutter  and  draw  forth  from  the  black 
mud  a  red-lipped  rose, 


OPTIMOS  25 

0  rose:  your  lips  I  kiss! 

1  am  observed,  good  men  and  good  women  hurry  away  from 

the  sight  of  my  blasphemy, 

They  have  chosen  to  press  and  keep  life  as  a  dead  leaf  be 
tween  the  pages  of  a  book, 

In  odor  of  earth  and  damp  of  cloud  vapor  I  taste  life  off  the 
living  green  leaf, 

My  cup  poured  full. 

Was  ever  man  torn  up  by  the  roots  and  rendered  dead  to  the 

wish  of  the  sun? 
Why  was  the  way  opened  and  the  guest  chamber  prepared  if 

there  was  to  be  no  guest? 
You  have  as  many  reasons  for  being  as  there  have  been 

seasons  in  universal  time, 
You  have  as  many  reasons  for  continuing  to  be  as  there  are 

to  be  seasons  in  universal  time, 
You,  rooted  in  quickening  soil. 


I   AM    ON   LEAVE   OF   ABSENCE 

I  am  on  leave  of  absence,  I  am  allowed  the  sweet  furlough, 
Given  by  consent  of  life  from  one  life  to  another, 
Crossing  all  abysses  of  time   and  space   to  arrive  on  this 
recent  globe.  . 

My  ancestors  sent  me  out  of  the  world  of  their  peace  to 
plead  their  case  with  the  present. 

I  can  go  and  stay:  but  I  cannot  go  where  they  are  not  or 
stay  where  they  are  not. 

They  send  me  as  their  singer  to  tell  their  story  of  sacrifice, 

They  send  me  as  their  envoy  from  immortal  nowheres  vis 
iting  the  secular  earth. 


26  OPTIMOS 

I  do  not  waste  myself  in  the  gayday  of  the  spendthrift  body: 
I  test  each  minute  by  the  hour  to  which   it  belongs,  and 

each  hour  by  its  year. 

For  a  little  while  I  try  my  feet  on  the  curve  of  the  earth: 
I  accustom  myself  to  the   strain  and  struggle  of  the  fierce 

earthchild. 
Soon  I  am  to  be  off  again  to  pass  the  gage  along. 

I  look  forward  still  to  any  number  of  worlds  and  eras  yet  to 
be  absorbed: 

I  have  brought  that  for  you  to  examine  which  you  cannot 
reject: 

You  may  reject  me,  you  may  refuse  the  gift  from  my  hands, 

But  the  gift  is  yours  before  and  after  in  all  the  incidents  of 
birth  and  death. 

I  shall  take  to  the  next  and  the  next  the  same  report  in  all 
the  starry  throng, 

Playing  lackey  to  no  world's  no,  counting  second  to  no  out 
going  tide. 

If  I   could  step  out   of  this  scheme  one  step  or  one  second 

what  would  become  of  the  universe? 
It  would  topple  about  my  ears,  wrecked   on  the  shores  of 

emptiness  and  nothing. 
I  am  not  free:    I  am  only  allowed  my  pay  to  spend  as  I 

choose. 

The  universe  is  all  around  me,  I  cannot  get  on  its  outside, 
I  on  immortal  parole. 


FREEDOM    TRANSCENDENT 

Freedom  transcendent, 

Freedom  to  go  that  I  may  will  to  stay, 


OPTIMOS  27 

Freedom  of  seas,  yet  not  sailing  seas  rudderless, 
Freedom  to  fly,  yet  not  flying  without  wings, 
Freedom  to  walk,  yet  not  walking  without  feet, 
Obedient  to  the  laws  of  life,  creating  such  laws  myself, 
I  am  not  master  or  slave:  I  am  in  turn  creator  and  creature, 
Divesting  myself  of  age,  of  youth,  without  travail. 

Not  being  outwardly  compelled  to  love  that  I  may  be  in 
wardly  compelled  to  love, 

Not  asking  others,  or  all,  to  put  arms  about  the  cosmos, 
doing  it  myself, 

Reproaching  nothing  and  no  one,  driving  no  bargains  with 
fate, 

Knowing  very  well  that  I  can  give  and  take  nothing  to  undo 
the  balance  of  the  infinite  scale. 

Freedom  would  not  bind  us  to  God  through  the  church,  to 

man  through  the  state, 

It  would  open  the  highways  of  a  mutual  suffrage, 
It  would  make  of  equal  parts  the  immortal  compact. 

Who  of  you  may  suppose  that  freedom  is  the  city? 

Freedom  is  but  the  gateway  to  the  city! 

Who  of  you  deluded  yourself  with  supposing  that  freedom 

was  the  song  or  the  singer? 
It  is  neither:    it  is  the  air  which  invites,  receives,  invests, 

singer  and  song! 

Was  it  for  freedom  that  her  lovers  suffered? 

We  did  not  fight  to  win  and  stay  on  the  threshold: 

All  battle,  thinking,  victory,  defeat,  joy,  pain,  were  keys  of 

entrance  and  exit — 
Having  won  them,  they  are  ours  to  use  at  will:   pass  signs 

of  farther  adventure: 


28  OPTIMOS 

Last  night  I  slept  well  housed,  tonight  I  sleep  out  under 
the  stars. 

The  winds  are  the  walls  of  my  house,  the  blue  overhead  its 
roof,  the  fluid  seas  and  streams  its  foundations  (founda 
tions  most  solid — solidest  of  all): 

I  use  these  to  my  will,  expanding,  contracting,  employing 
divine  laws  to  the  shifting  needs  of  my  soul. 

Yet  do  I  also  live  in  brick  houses  and  castle  walls — 
These  do  not  confine  me:   they  are  themselves  only  wind, 

ether,    wave,    gravitation,    for  the  time  stilled  to  my 

purposes. 

When  the  clock  in  the  hallway  strikes  all  concrete  forms 
vanish: 

My  wand  is  more  potent  than  Prospero's — I  build  and  dis 
mantle  with  unbafHed  inerrancy 

Cloud,  iron,  rock,  or  tyrant's  throne. 

Names  of  states,    religions,  social   ideals,  are  swept  away, 

disappear, 
We  are  merged   in  supreme  consciousness,   swept    on    one 

stream, 
We  forget  men  and  their  differences   in  remembering  man 

and  his  unity, 
We  honor  all  that  is  called  life  and  all  that  is  called  death 

for  its  undeniable  integrity, 
There  are  no  dregs  in  the  cup,  the  full  drink  is  none  too 

copious  for  the  drinker. 

Freedom  never  treats  with  death  and  delay — its  decrees  are 

in  eternal  movement  and  unhesitating  avowal, 
Freedom  offers  no  sacrifices,  encourages  no  conformity, 


OPTIMOS  29 

Freedom  is  riot  jealous,  its  wishing  is  ever  wholesome,  out 

of  good  earth, 
Freedom  is  reverence,  and  transmutes  good  deeds  of  good 

hearts  into  thrones  and  pulpits, 
Freedom  offers  its  parliament  to  universal  membership,  it 

disclaims  all  power  to  scorn  or  reject. 

Freedom  takes  from  embattling  armies  their  bloodred 
swords — with  her  tears  she  washes  them  clean, 

Freedom  takes  from  legislatures  traversing  statutes — with 
her  wisdom  she  plucks  their  sting, 

Freedom  treats  man  to  man  direct,  refusing  all  interme 
diaries. 

The  powers  of  freedom  are  the  powers  of  love, 
Freedom  is  love's  equal  mate: 

Freedom  is  wind  and  star  and  compass  and  faithful  ship  for 
all  your  hopes. 

Freedom  trusts:    it  is  not  afraid  to  approach  unarmed  him 

who  is  armed, 
In  jungle  or  mob,  freedom  safely  weaves  its  thread,  ascends, 

descends,   plays  in  and  out,  is  never  defeated,    never 

awed,  always  defeats,  always  awes. 
Freedom  is  faith's  crest,  it  is  the  arm  about  the  universe,  it 

is  the  hand  touching  every  hand,  it  is  the  eye  darting 

forth  infinite  treaties, 

Freedom  is  that  which  grants  and  that  which  is  granted: 
It  is  giver  and  gift  and  the  law  that  operates  between  them. 

Freedom  transcendent, 

Withholding  nothing,  child  of  divine  abandon, 
Affection's  spring,  melody  of  poems,  odor  of  roses,  sap  of 
trees, 


30  OPTIMOS 

Gravitation  unstinting — unfailing  law  of  requital, 

I  am  bathed  in  the  beams  of  your  sun,  I  am  at  ease  in  the 

whirl   of  your  tempest,  your  terms  are  exact  but  not 

exacting, 

To  the  disturbed  world  falls  your  restoration: 
The  tide  is  not  erratic,  the  whims  of  winds  pause  in  their 

gay  rebellion, 

While  you,  O  Freedom,  having  the  ear  of  eternal  counsel, 
Persuade  all  prodigal  hearts,  atoms,  home  to  their  deserted 

spheres. 


I    DO    NOT   SAY   THE   SUNSET    IS    PERFECT 

I  do  not  say  the  sunset  is  perfect:  it  is  enough — 

It  fills  me,  I  am  the  flame  of  its  fire,  I  am  its  red  and  gold: 

my  veins  dilate  in  its  superlustrous  humor. 
I  do  not  say  my  friend  or  my  enemy  is  perfect  or  imperfect, 

or  that  my  enemy  is  not  perfect: 
I  know  they  are  enough:  I  am  their  life  incorporate,  I  walk 

in  their  boots. 

I  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  perfect,  I  know  what  it  is  to  be: 
I  do  not  know  perfect  or  imperfect — I  know  only  life  sphered, 

whole,  set  everywhere  with  the  eye  of  the  divine. 

0  house  and  home  of  men — O  palace  of  arts  and  song — 

fixed  there  by  workmen  faithful, 
Fabric  of  brick  and  stone  and  wood: 
You,  too,  are  but  apparition! 

1  have  forecast  you  in  my  visits  beyond  sense  and  bound 

aries,  you  are  a  dream  manifest  to  my  muscles, 
Deeper  your  foundations  than  the  earth  they  are  set  in, 
Loftier  your  rooftree  than  the  few  feet  of  space  they  con 
quer: 


OPTIMOS  31 

In  heaven  and  hell  securely  planted. 

We  are  told  to  make  haste  while  it  is  day,  for  the  night 

soon  comes: 
I  say,  do  not  make  haste,  it  is  always  day,  the  night  never 

comes. 

Keep  your  pace  only  with  the  years:   there  is  just  as  much 
time  to  be  as  has  been  and  it  will  always  be  so. 

Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?     No — but  I  am  my  brother's 

brother: 
We  are  bridged  to  the  universal  purposes,  I  pass  by  him,  he 

passes  by  me,  on  the  infinite  ways, 
Sunlit,  stareyed,  the  round  accomplished. 

There  is  no  foe,  there  is  no  friend — 

These  are  but  strings  of  my  lyre,  these  are  fair  measure, 

from  each  tones  equal  and  pure, 
I  touch  them  conjoined  to  harmonic  song,  I  raise  by  them 

the  prophecy  eternal — 
They  are  my  two  lips:   they  are  my  hands,  left  and  right, 

and  by  them  I  am  full  armed, 
If  I  part  them  I  break  myself  in  two,  I  throw  myself  against 

the  turning  wheel. 

Am  I  mocked  with  loss  and  gain? 

The  winner  raises  a  voice  of  exultation,  the  defeated  weeps: 
I  am  undisturbed — I  see  that  both  win  and  both  lose, 
I  see  victor  and  vanquished  each  pocketing  the  booty,  each 
paying  the  bills  of  conquest. 

Had  it  been  dreamed  that  any  one  could  withdraw  from  any 
other? 


32  OPTIMOS 

Do  not  blur  the  sunbeam:  it  pierces  all  hearts:  we  are  all 
in  one  line. 

The  scales  are  dismissed,  the  unclouded  eye  sees, 

No  longer  to  weigh,  compute,  to  mark  up  and  down,  to 
offer  prizes, 

Now  only  the  extended  hand  impartial,  needing  no  pence 
or  acres, 

The  hilltop,  the  valley's  bottom,  upcast,  held  down,  by 
earth's  humor,  neither  great,  neither  small,  the  low 
land  the  mountain  crest,  the  pine  at  the  top  the  daisy 
on  the  field. 

I  am  risen  to  my  stature, 

That  which  came  out  upon  the  rosebud  as  dew  this  morn 
ing, 

In  me,  in  my  opened  soul,  the  sunlight  breaking  free, 
Illuminates  all  space. 


DOWN    INTO    HELL   I    PASSED 

Down  into  hell  I  passed: 

1  stirred  the  fires,  I  saw  that  innocent  and  guilty  there  were 
duly  punished: 

I  left  no  soul  untouched,  I  turned  ages  into  the  cauldrons: 

I  saw  that  rules  were  enforced,  penalties  exacted:  that  no 
exceptions  were  allowed: 

I  saw  the  pallid  sufferers:  and  to  suffering  I  added  se 
verity: 

And  nothing  was  too  hard  for  the  inexorable  humor  of  my 
revenge: 

Then  I  turned  away  and  wept:  into  my  secret  corner  went 
and  wept. 


OPTIMOS  33 

In  the  city  I  hastened  with  my  whip  and  drove  the  crowd 

to  sheepfold: 

I  sat  at  ease  in  my  study  and  touched  the  quick  of  the  thou 
sand  slaves  who  never  saw  me  yet  did  my  will. 
I  was  master   of  races,  chieftain  of  tribes,  always  on  top, 

ever  commanding, 

Obedient  to  me  the  social  planes  rose  and  fell: 
I  was  relentless,  unbending:  I  pioneered  and  cleansed: 
Yet  great  was  my  pity  also:  I  withheld  no  charter  of  love. 

Into    the    veins    of    men  I  passed:   I  became  their  rebel's 

blood,  their  passion's  outrage: 
Into  their  hearts  I  passed:   I  pressed  life  off  the  line  of  its 

loyalties: 

I  halted  the  flower  in  its  bud  and  virtue  in  its  impulse, 
I  performed  unwelcome  deeds  and  neglected  the  call  of  my 

kinsmen: 
Then  I   turned  round  my  corner  again  and  crowded  men 

with  the  benefaction  of  my  regret. 

Out  of  their  courses  I  swept  the  protesting  stars, 
I  took  the  planets  away  from  their  bereaved  suns: 
I  touched  the  earths  to  deserts:  I  moled  to  the  roots  of 

vegetation  and  blasted  harvests: 
I  built  cities  over  marshes  and  played  death  loose  into  the 

haughty  avenues  of  the  rich, 
The  sophist,  the  pander,  the  outlaw,  lodged  securely  in  my 

heart: 
Yet  my  hands  were  released — they  reached  behind  veils  and 

spread  wide  the  crowning  conditions  of  salvation. 

But  for  me  God  could  not  have  been,  but  for  God  I  could 

not  have  been, 
In  God  explained,  God  is  explained  in  me, 


34  OPTIMOS 

I,  the  mixed  accident  and  reason,  I  the  straight  course  and 

round: 

The  chord  of  life  not  found  in  God,  nor  found  in  me, 
But  found  in  that  presence,   not  God's  or  mine,   strained 

from  all  being. 
You  have  thought  God  had  quarreled  with  me  and  we  were 

at  war: 
But  God's  truce  is  mine:   our  blended  pulses  yield  a  single 

pledge. 

Did  Satan  deceive  you  O  my  loved  companions? 

Did  you  suppose  he  was  really  something  alone,  to  be  reck 
oned  with  as  an  evil  spirit? 

Did  you  believe  that  Satan  was  an  alien  threatening  the 
citadel  of  God? 

Did  you  go  to  bed  at  night  thinking  Satan  barred  out  of 
your  house? 

Did  you  think  God  had  so  much  for  you  and  Satan  nothing 
at  all? 

Did  you  write  Satan  out  of  your  scriptures  and  God  there  to 
fill  every  line? 

Did  you  take  the  round  globe  seriously  and  think  it  was 
intended  for  gentle  things  and  likely  things  alone? 

Did  you  take  up  a  spadeful  of  earth  and  compare  it  unfa 
vorably  with  the  colors  in  your  western  sky? 

1  do  not  parley  with  Satan  or  God  but  with  the  stuff  of  the 
ethers  which  provoke  both. 

I  am  no  more  afraid  of  Satan's  bad  than  of  God's  good: 

And  but  for  me  neither  could  have  been  and  but  for  my 
good  health  the  two  would  never  merge: 

And  the  good  health  of  my  body  and  of  my  soul  is  the  good 
health  of  the  spheres: 

And  Satan  could  not  damn  me  alone:  God  would  have 
something  to  say  about  that: 


OPTIMOS  35 

And  God  could  not  save  me  alone:  Satan  would  have  some 
thing  to  say  about  that: 

And  it  is  whispered  me  that  I  am  to  be  neither  saved  nor 
damned  anyway, 

But  that  I  am  to  save  or  damn  myself  to  all  eternity: 

I,  in  whom  God  and  Satan,  for  purposes  not  all  seen,  eter 
nally  melt  beyond  severance. 


WITH   YOUR   HAND    IN    MINE 

With  your  hand  in  mine,  your  faith  in  shadowy  retirements 

of  jungled  thought, 

The  lore  of  love  retrieving  the  day  to  its  confident  dreams, 
You  yet  rebuke  my  jubilant  cry:  O  faithful  companion,  O  my 

released  other  self,  I  am  content. 
You  weep  bitter  tears,  you  ask:    Can  you  be  happy  now  ? 

The  day  brings  you  sorrow,  arrogant  power  has  subjugated 
your  will  to  its  will,  again  I  hear  your  voice:  Is  there 
no  pity  in  your  heart  for  this  ? 

The  slaves  wail,  I  see  the  starved  outcast,  the  cold  north 
wind  is  mad  musical  at  the  fireless  hearth: 

My  neighbor  does  not  say  a  word  yet  I  hear  his  question: 

0  just  judge,    O  passionless  laughing  optimist,   are  these  in  your 

cup,    do   you    drain    these  to    their   dregs,   still  proclaiming 
your  faith  ? 

1  mix  these  and  more  than  these  in  my  cup,  they  do  not 

poison  it, 

As  I  drink  I  am  moved  out  of  my  flesh  and  childborn  again 
to  visions  unseen  by  the  eye, 

The  slave  is  freed,  his  chains  are  wings:  the  harlot  is  puri 
fied,  the  passion  that  sold  her  restores. 


36  OPTIMOS 

Hark!  An  hour  is  struck!  do  you  know  the  hour?  it  sum 
mons  sin  from  its  grave  and  gives  it  new  form. 

Bring  all  your  sorrows,  your  weepers,  here:  I  will  sorrow, 
weep,  with  them:  I  will  tell  them  why  I  do  not  mis 
take  the  passing  shadow  for  a  sunbeam. 

The  mendicant  sits  with  extended  hand  by  the  roadside, 
I  accost  him:  he  is  blind,  deaf,  nothing  moves  him  till  I 

drop  a  warm  coin  in  his  cold  desiring  palm, 
This  wakes  him  to  life,  words  vague  thankful  leap  to  his 

lips: 
/  am   blind — yes:    but  I,   too,    have  skies,   seaswells,     wonderful 

as  any  which  eyes  see — but  I  also  have  hunger, 
I  am  here  for  my  hunger's  sake  alone,   my  body's  beggary. 

The  dark  page  reads  white,  the  shadows  are  only  playthings 

of  sunshine, 
Even  failure  is  successful  with  success,  they  reach  the  goal 

twin-leaping. 

I  thought  I  heard  as  I  passed  the  birds  singing  in  forests 
carols  windladen,  sunbathed, 

Now  I  am  undeceived:  these  birds  were  my  heart  singing, 
light  and  breeze  the  outward  theme  and  song  of  in 
terior  seasons: 

The  seasound  did  not  come  into  me,  it  went  out  of  me,  I 
only  supposed  it  there  harptouched  from  unseen  musi 
cal  zephyrs  making  love  to  wavecrests, 

The  blue  deep  was  only  starrich  by  the  unhesitating  grace 
of  my  vision, 

O  apparition!  O  unsundered  worlds!  from  me  first  cast, 
out  of  me  created,  my  heart  your  sunfires,  fused  in 
exterior  delusions,  I  surprised  baffled  by  my  own 
progeny! 


OPTIMOS  37 

To  your  beds,   O  philosophers:  sleep  yet  another  night, 

It  may  chance  with  the  morning,  refreshed,  you  may  be  bet 
ter  worthy  of  your  inheritance, 

Your  now  blaspheming  lips  no  longer  reluctant  ministers  of 
joy. 

By  specters  led  I  go  to  the  sea's  edge,  I  see  the  wreckage 
strewn  the  shore, 

By  specters  led  I  reach,  I  peer  over  the  rim  of  the  volcano, 

By  specters  led  I  fearlessly  traverse  the  narrow  passes  of 
devastated  ambitions, 

Before  me  the  processional  of  sorrow,  nothing  withheld,  no 
hard  line  softened,  the  cruel  evil  left  as  evil,  inspira 
tion  of  reformer,  tradecoin  of  priest: 

I  do  not  banish  these,  all  are  welcome  guests, 

I  had  provided  enough  for  all — the  seats  at  the  feast  are  not 
filled  till  the  last  evil  has  come. 

Are  all  arrived?  Well  at  last  for  all,  for  all  shall  go  forth 
fed,  clothed,  satisfied. 


THE   WORD    OF   ALL   WORDS 

The  word  of  all  words  is  the  word  of  the  mediator, 

The  life  of  all  lives  is  the  life  mediatorial, 

The  soul  of  the  continents  is  the  sea  that  is  between, 

The  substance  of  earth  and  the  substance  of  heaven  is  some 
thing  that  is  neither  earth  nor  heaven: 

And  so  may  the  secular  soil  and  the  sacred  sky  change 
places,  pleading  for  each  other: 

And  so  may  doubted  things  trade  with  accepted  things  and 
the  two  together  proceed  upon  one  pathway: 

And  so  may  grief  barter  with  joy,  and  joy  with  grief  back 
again,  while  both  draw  sustenance  from  the  same 
source  of  treasure: 


38  OPTIMOS 

And  so  by  such  tokens  may  the  soul  partake  of  the  mean 
ings  of  the  body  and  the  body  partake  of  the  meanings 
of  the  soul. 

The  dear  Christ  has  been  on  the  cross  long  enough: 
Come,  take  him  down:  release  him  from  his  patient  travail: 
You  may  now  go  up,  taking  his  place,  bleeding  yourself 

from  veins  your  due  to  the  necessitous  world. 
The  cries  of  ages  chorus  the  soul  to  the  mount  of  sacrifice: 
Shall  one  alone  suffer  for  all?  or  shall  all  suffer  for  one? 
There  is  a  fate  worse  than  falls  to  the  man  nailed  to  a  cross: 
It  is  the  fate  of  the  man  who  has  no  cross. 
Here  are  the  slaves  who  come  between  and  the  laborers  who 

come  between, 

Here  are  mothers  and  children  serving  to  bridge  the  peril 
ous  abysses: 
Here  are  the  sick  for  health's  sake  and  here  are  well  people 

ministering  to  those  who  suffer: 

Here  are  ships  that  go  to  sea  and  are  not  heard  of  again, 
Here  are  men  who  die   in  battle  for  causes  and  men  who 

kill  in  battle  for  causes  also, 

Here  are  criminals  in  whom  Judas  is  as  important  as  Jesus: 
Here  is  a  world  without  absolution  and  without  guilt: 
Here  is  the  ebb  and  flood  of  atomic  genesis  making  for  rep 
aration  out  of  the  worst  dismay: 
Here  are  men  who  dream,  other  men  who  speak  prophecies, 

and  men  truly  also  who  are  silent  before  the  sphinx: 
Here  is  the  witness  of  the  rain  interceding  for  harvest  time 

and  the'  sun  turned  harvester  in  the  autumn  fields: 
Here  is  the  drama  of  interchange — the  retrenching  seasons, 
the  recovered  events. 

Yet  we  dare  to  talk  of  the  Jesus  as  though  he  alone  had 
passed  through  the  ordeal: 


OPTIMOS  39 

Though  I  could  tell  you  that  the  least  of  the  trials  of  Jesus 

was  the  trial  of  the  cross. 
I  should  feel  ashamed  and  sorry  for  my  race  if  only  one  or 

two  of  its  specimens  endured  the  heat  and  the  cold  of 

persecution: 
For  the  road  is  full  of  the  martyrs  who  came  between  and 

made  life  easier  for  the  rest: 
For   the  sore  feet  of  the  weary  came  between,  and  the  sad 

aches  of  the  condemned  came  between, 
And  before  the  eclipsed  martyrdoms  all  the  noisy  martyr 
doms  are  still: 
And  thousands  of  times  Jesus  has  taken  the  nails  out  of  his 

palms  and  himself  come  off  his  cross  protesting, 
But  you  have  put  him  back  again  and  taken  perpetual  gifts 

and  laid  them  there  at  his  sacred  shrine. 
In   death's  name    life   comes   between   and    in  life's  name 

death, 
And  I  am  humbled  seeing  how  much  is  made  of  the  little 

things  I  have  done: 
For  I  am  not  proof  against  the  slanderer  when  his  flatteries 

coin  my  false  metal: 
Yet  I  know  that  I,  too,  come  between — that  1  pass  among 

men  a  stream  to  sunder  and  join: 
Yet  I  know  that  where  Christs  have  stood  I  have  stood  and 

will  often  stand  again: 
Yet  I  know  that  I  have  taken  heavier  burdens  upon  hillsides 

and  seen  heaven  off  my  cross: 
Yet  I  know  that  Jesus,  the  Christ,  and  Buddha,  the  Christ, 

and  Whitman,  too,  Christ,  and  the  overworked  toilers, 

most  benign  of  Christs,  have  gone  with  me  to  treaty 

and  trial. 

This   is  what  it  means  to  come  between:   this  is  what  we 
give  and  take  in  the  exercise  of  our  sacrifice: 


40  OPTIMOS 

This  is  the  meaning  of  the  perpetual  ascents  and  descents 

of  saviors: 
This  is  what  comes  to  the  heart  in  solitude  after  the  wreck 

of  public  preparations: 
This   is  what  we  see  when  the  Christs  abdicate  and  the 

Christs  appear: 
This  is  what  honor  means  to  the  cross  and  what  it  means 

to  the  workman's  bench: 
This  is  what  the  dreams  of  men  come  to  when  they  appear 

in   splendor   on    some    mountain    top    and    vanishing 

ignominy  in  the  shadow  of  some  alley: 
This  is  how  men  and  women  and  children  and  the  animals 

and   the   stars  come  between  each  other  pleading  the 

case  of  immortality: 
This  is  the  straight  and  crooked  of  revelation  and  mystery, 

crowding  to  speak  the  same  word: 
This  is  why  love  ever  comes  between  and  reaches  out  hands 

to  either  side: 
This  is  why  I  think  the  most  of  the  Christs  and  the  least  of 

the  Christs,  I  who  have  also  my  call  to  serve: 
I,  on  my  knees,  dusty,  sore:  I,  up  in  heaven  there,  cleansed, 

rejuvenant. 


ALONE   IN  THE   DESERT   I   STOOD 

Alone  in  the  desert  I  stood, 

Alone  in  the  waste,  the  blank  sands  about  me, 

Alone  with  the  sky  and  the  outstretched  acres  of  dearth, 

Alone,  without   dream  of  a  beyond,  without  wilderness  or 

water  in  sight, 
Alone,  with  the  thirst  of  the  spirit  unslaked. 

Alone  in  the  city  I  stood, 


OPTIMOS  41 

Alone    in  the  crowded  streets,    alone    in    the   superflux   of 

plenty, 

Alone  where  the  rest  were  herded,  alone  on  the  hard  paves, 
Alone  in  the  halls  of  the  savants,  alone   in  the  stress  of  the 

schools, 

Alone,  unfed,  hungry  from  hungers  long  accumulated, 
Alone,  with  the  rein  of  my  desire  unchecked. 

O  what  have  I  done  to  isolate  me  beyond  the  succor  of  com 
panions? 

0  what  have  I  done  to  crowd  me  into  loneliness  where  men 

convene  in  assemblies? 

1  have  offered  my  bonds  and  my  vouchers,  the  seal  of  the 

title  I  bear, 

I  have  brought  the  perfect  pedigree  of  my  virtue, 
I  have  brought  treasure  and  reputation  and  called  them  suc 
cess: 
But  all  seems  alien  to  the  one  gift  I  missed. 

What  is  this  break  in  the  line? 

Why  do  I  stand  aghast  before  success? 

Why  do  I  scorn  all  I  have  won  and  only  cherish  the  one 
thing  I  have  not  won? 

Is  the  universe  at  an  end  and  lost  in  me?  am  I  the  imme 
diate  agent  of  celestial  destruction? 

Is  the  up  and  down  of  life  all  compassed  in  the  scale  of  my 
peace  and  pain? 

What  is  there  at  the  core  of  this  earth,  this  heaven,  this 
me,  to  preserve  us  against  our  own  fires? 

Resolutely  I  searched:  with  books  in  my  hands:  with  voy 
agers  ventured: 

And  all  search  was  without  reward:  all  reaching  forth  was 
without  fruit: 


42  OPTIMOS 

And  only  after  I  stopped  searching  were  my  eyes  opened: 
Then  I  found  that  the  worst  in  me  needed  to  be  resolved 

into  the  better, 
I  found  that  the  better  in  me  needed  to  be  resolved  into  the 

best  to  come,   and   that  best  and  best  again  were  to 

come  forever, 
I  found  that  substance  was  passing  into  shadow  and  shadow 

back  to  substance  again,  without  compromise, 
I  found  that  the  soul  was  truly  the  body  and  the  body  was 

truly    the    soul    and    that    each    was    the  substance  of 

neither, 
I  found  that  gaps  filled  up,  that  breaks  mended,  that  sores 

healed,  that  everything  was  bridged  and  secured: 
I    found    that    nothing    was   left    behind — that    everything 

passed  over, 
I   found   that   the   soul   took  care  of  the  last  fabric  and  the 

final  word, 

I  found  that  everything  was  the  collateral  of  something  else, 
I  found  that  nothing  was  left  without  its  equal  on  the  ex 
change, 
I  found  that  the  seed  was  revived  in  the  tree  and  that  the 

tree  passed  immortally  into  the  seed  again,  and   that 

this  was  the  formula  of  being, 
I  found  that  the  sins  and  crimes  of  men  were  passed  in  and 

returned  good  gold, 
I  found  that  empty  and  full  meant  nothing  to  life  when  it 

was  left  to  flow  equably  in  its  natural  channels, 
I  found  that  no  treasure  could  be  cheated  of  its  due  or  could 

overdraw  its  account, 
I   found  that   there  was  nowhere   loss  and  nowhere   gain: 

everything  was  promptly  paid  for  in  full, 
I  found  that  no  plan  could  outwit  the  original  scheme: 
I  found  that  we  ran  no  accounts  with  the  universe  and  that 

the  universe  never  worried  about  its  assets: 


OPTIMOS  43 

I  found  that  do  what  I  might  my  place  could  not  be  for 
feited, 

I  found  that  do  what  I  might  nothing  could  be  added  to  the 
measure  of  my  station. 

The  desert  is  lost  in  the  forest, 

The  sands  are  lost  in  running  streams, 

The  city  is  lost  in  the  citizen, 

The  hermit  is  lost  in  the  hurlyburly, 

The  scholar  is  lost  in  the  man, 

The  brave  written  words  are  lost  in  the  braver  lived  deeds, 

I  am  lost  in  myself. 


IN   THE  YOUTH    OF  MY  TURBULENT   SPIRIT 

In  the  youth  of  my  turbulent  spirit, 

In  the  days  when  fasting  and  prayer  changed  the  hue  of  life 

and  hope, 
In  days  when  the  priests  seemed  plausible  and  I  traveled 

abreast  with  the  scholars  of  the  world: 
Then  I  thought  man  needed  to  be  saved, 
Then  I  thought   I   as  a  superior  person  was  needed  to  save 

the  world: 
So  I  put  on  my  best  clothes  and  best  manners  and  went  out 

in  the  crowds, 
And  raised  my  supercilious  voice  above   the  babel  of  the 

world's  dissent. 

I  put  canvas  before  the  artist  and  he  painted  his  great  picture, 
I  put  a  pen  in  the  hand  of  the  poet  and  he  wrote  an  immor 
tal  song, 

I  put  holy  books  on  pulpits  and  persuaded  from  its  orators 
the  thunder  of  their  threats, 


44  OPTIMOS 

I  sent  travelers  abroad  to  fix  my  seed  everywhere   in  alien 

soil, 
I  hastened  my  couriers,  who  produced  from  men  grave  and 

gracious  deeds. 

Now,  I  said,  the  earth,  man,  will  be  saved: 
Now  nothing  further  needs  to  be  done, 
Now  I  will  rest  here  in  the  shade  while  the  note  accrues. 

But  man  was  not  saved, 

Harvests  came  and  were  eaten  and  man  was  not  saved, 

Art  celebrated  nuptials  and  feasted  upon  itself  and  became 
of  age  and  bore  a  great  name,  but  man  was  not  saved, 

Religion  reared  temples  and  went  to  sleep  in  them,  but 
man  was  not  saved. 

And  so  I  had  wearily  but  still  with  faith  to  get  up  and  pur 
sue  my  journey, 

Still  with  perfect  sight  the  promise  forward  reading. 

Ugly,  ill  at  ease,  fretful,  distressed  and  sore, 
Driven  by  counter  currents  off  the  direct  ascent, 
With  heart  humbled  and  the  deeds  of  the  heart  effaced, 
All  moods  of  rebellion  lost  in  one  mood  of  humility, 
I  cast  my  lot  with  the  outlaw,  I  went  full  armed  over  to  the 
foe. 

What  was  the  secret? 

Out  of  that  resolve  grew  all  the  purity  of  the  earth, 
Out  of  that  venture  was  struck  all  the  gold  of  discovery: 
To  forswear  virtue  and  to  go  with  those  who  are  the  of 
fenders, 

To  throw  away  the  leaden  vanities:  O  God!  how  that  re 
duced  the  burden! 

To  mix  with  sorrow  and  vice  and  lose  in  them  the  rank 
prides  and  the  cursory  blessings: 


OPTIMOS  45 

To  take  no  property  with  the  heart:  to  go  shorn  of  every 
thing: 

To  have  nothing  to  give  and  to  desire  nothing: 

This  was  the  secret: 

By  this  sign  was  I  to  get  upon  good  terms  with  the  estranged 
universe. 

Then  I  saw  that  the  world  did  not  need  to  be  saved: 

Then  I  saw  that  I  needed  to  be  saved: 

Then  I  saw  that  even  I  did  not  need  to  be  saved: 

Then  I  felt  the  pulse  of  something  which  set  me  down  upon 

a  certain  spot, 
Then  I  saw  all  the  rest  seized  and  set  down  upon  certain 

spots, 
Then  the  sun  shone  on  all  and  merged  all  in  continuity, 

succession  and  coherency. 

Now  the  world  was  new, 

Now  great  deeds  were  no  more  and  little   deeds  were  no 

more, 
Now  an  evil  humor  meant  no  more  harm  to  man  than  a 

good  humor, 

Now  the  best  man  was  no  better  than  the  worst  man, 
Now  no  one  was  punished   for  being  what  he  was  and  no 

one  was  rewarded  for  being  what  he  was  not, 
Now  virtue  was  no  hardier  working  out  its  own  fortunes 

than  working  out  the  fortunes  of  evil, 
Now  law  was  made  meaningless  if  it  became  a  rule  with 

exceptions, 
Now  prosperity  was  surely  dead  ashes  if  it  did  not  warm 

every  hearth. 

For  no  word  abolished  anything  but  life  abolished  all  words, 
For  the  savior  is  not  a  man  nailed  to  a  cross — 


46  OPTIMOS 

The  savior  is  any  man  or  woman  who  without  cross  or  nail 
lives  earth's  simple  life  on  the  plane  of  its  first  propo 
sitions. 


WHEN   THE    GREAT   ARTIST   APPEARED 

When  the  great  artist  appeared  with  his  miracles  I  thought 
of  the  plain  facts  of  my  own  life  and  was  ashamed: 

I  showed  my  back  to  this  wonderful  performer  and  returned 
as  one  dissatisfied  among  my  fellows: 

And  the  deeds  I  saw  done  in  these  hovels  and  holes  and 
even  in  the  palaces,  shrunk  to  the  measure  of  my  un 
rest  and  became  as  ciphers  to  my  calculating  dismay: 

And  even  the  children  were  less  than  children,  and  the  men 
and  women  less  than  men  and  women. 

This  was  worship:  this  was  my  reach  from  the  mud  to 
heaven:  this  was  to  go  into  the  dust  and  ask  of  life 
that  it  pardon  me  for  having  lived: 

This  strange  awe  before  power  and  skill — this  shudder  of 
despair,  this  knave  confession  and  fool  regard. 

So  I  too  would  be  artist  with  the  best: 
And  power  visited  my  veins  and  stayed  with  me: 
And  I  took  all  places  other  men  had  taken: 
And  whose  voice  but  mine  was  the  most  admired? 
And  whose  songs  but  mine  were  lauded  by  the  schools? 
And  whose  fame  but  mine  was  cherished  by  the  academy? 
And  whose  battles  were  so  fought  as  were  my  battles? 
And  whose  orations  so  much  as  mine  stirred  men? 
And  whose  rulership  was  so  absolute  as  mine? 
And  whose  slaves  so  served  a  master  as  mine  served  me? 
And  God,  seeing  all  this,  meeking  his  ancient  claim,  abdi 
cated  and  retired: 


OPTIMOS  47 

Leaving  to  me  all  realms  of  worlds — I  who  could  crunch  so 
much  in  my  relishing  jaws. 

Out  of  me  came  thunder  and  lightning  and  fierce  rains  and 
currents  bearing  wrecks, 

And  my  soul  was  lost  in  the  din  and  terror  of  its  own  invo 
cations, 

And  the  enraged  elements  so  swept  the  spaces  nothing  could 
hope  to  survive  their  cross  purposes, 

All  my  talents  warred  against  each  other,  all  my  prides  con 
tested  for  priority. 

This  was  what  came  in  the  travail  of  my  passions,  when 
power  was  let  loose  without  love, 

This  was  the  largess  of  authority,  this  was  the  legend  and 
entail  of  the  despot. 

And  what  could  I  do  in  the  dire  press  of  the  storm  I  had 

summoned? 

I  had  waved  my  hand  and  brought  this  about: 
Would  another  wave  of  the  hand  still  it  all? 
But  with  the  crisis  pale  before  me  my  palm  would  not  lift: 

0  cloud,  O  sky,  O  sun,  at  last  you  had  your  revenge! 

The  sun  came  to  me  out  of  the  sky,  the  cloud  departed 
from  my  skull:  how  wonderful! 

1  flew  to  the  bosom  of  my  mother  self  again! 

So  the  echoing  emptiness  of  my  soul  was  not  without  inten 
tion: 

For  bye  and  bye  in  the  hungry  rebellion  of  the  retrieving 
spirit  the  flood  came: 

And  when  the  waters  rose  I  had  space  to  receive  them, 

And  in  the  bulging  fullness  of  my  renewed  life  the  broken 
strands  mended,  strayed  things  found  their  way  home, 
and  the  darkest  shadows  took  in  the  most  light. 


48  OPTIMOS 

Then  I  went  about  in  accustomed  haunts  again: 
And  unclean  things  were  clean,  and  common  things  uncom 
mon, 
And  I  could  not  tell  the  palace  from  the  hut,  they  were  so 

much  alike, 
And  I   could   not  tell  black  from  white  or  criminal   from 

saint,  they  were  so  much  alike, 
And  all   gods  were   so   much  alike   they  were  transformed 

into  one  god, 
And  this  god  and  myself  were  so  much  alike  we  too  melted 

as  into  one  frame, 
And    the   simplest    playact    of  the   youngest  child   was  so 

much  like  the  profoundest  speculation  of  the  adept  they 

could  not  be  untangled. 

Now  all  the  fancied  prizes  were  cheap  and  useless: 

Now  I  gave  genius  back  all  its  prestige: 

Now  I  was  contented  to  be  alone  with  love  and  in  the  aver 
age  practice  of  men: 

I,  who  had  taken  my  turn  on  the  jovine  heights: 

I,  who  came  away  leaving  all  things  there  where  I  found 
them, 

Envying  their  masters  nothing. 


I    REMEMBER 

I   remember  the   sensation  I   felt  as   I,  the   farmer's  seed, 

dropt  in  the  earth, 
I  remember  myself  as  the  ship  that  brought  the  grain  back 

against  the  gale, 
I  remember  what  it  meant  to  the  acorn  as  it  climbed  to  the 

oak,  and  how  I  threw  myself  in  humble  wish  back  upon 

the  mercy  of  the  earth  again. 


OPTIMOS  49 

A  casual  word  of  anger  makes  me  remember  my  own  loose 

tongue. 
When  the  murderer  is  hung  I  remember  the  murders  I  have 

committed. 
«  In   the  thief  I   remember  my  thieving,  in   the   glutton  my 

fatness. 
The  girl  who  prowled  in  shadows  of  streets  for  prey — O,  I 

remember  her  as  my  haunting  prostitution. 
In  the  judge  I  remember  my  crime,  in  the  jury  I  remember 

my  temptation,  in  the  counsel  I  remember  that  I  too 

served  cruelty  for  devil's  pay. 

When  I  write  my  pretty  phrases  I  remember  my  ugly  life. 
It  is  a  fine  coat  I  wear  but  what  is  that  which  I  wear  under 

the  coat? 
You  were  tried  for  all  my  offenses,  and  who  knows  but  the 

real  prison  is  my  freedom  and  the  real  freedom  vour 

barred  cell? 
I  remember  myself  in  the  fragments  of  myself  everywhere 

reflected: 

Life  everywhere  greets  me  as  the  friendly  rememberer. 
Did  I  fear  to  see  myself  where  I  truly  am  and  as  I  am  truly 

shaped, 
Did    I   fear  to  face  the  reminders  of  myself  in  abhorrent 

forms  established, 
Then  had  remembrance  annulled  the  law  of  life. 


IN   THE   TREE   THE   SAP 

In  the  tree  the  sap,  in  the  earth  the  bursting  seed, 

In  laughter  keynotes  of  grief,  in  sorrow  veins  pulsing  with 

Joy, 

In  the  passing  the  eternal,  in  the  eternal  the  passing, 
Ever  in  things  hearts  of  things. 


50  OPTIMOS 

In  you  are  lives  more  than  lives  of  great  cities, 

In  you  are  crowding  populations  asking  that  you  give  them 

freedom, 
In  you  are  tragedies  every  day  and  gentle  love-dreams  rilling 

the  skies  with  light, 
I  reach  for  them  with  open  heart: 

0  they  come  to  me,  I  am  rilled! 

And  I  give  you  of  myself  the  myriad  dream-children  gam 
boling  on  shores  of  immortal  seas, 
Therefrom  we  have  eaten  one  feast, 
Therefore  is  love  hastened  judgment  delayed. 

1  go  from  door  to  door, 

Now  I  am  invited  to  enter,  again  I  am  rejected, 
Now  I  catch  a  glimpse  through  a  half  opened  window, 
Now  an  imprisoned  face  greets  me,  smiles,  appeals, 
Now  I  find  an  unclosed  threshold:   O  rare  threshold! 
But  in  the  main,  from  mornings  to  nights,  footsore,  I  go 
unrewarded,  knocking  at  many  a  lattice,  love  within 
making  no  sign, 
Yet  never  losing  heart,  never  doubting  the  love  of  those 

who  refuse  me, 

Knowing  that  in  the  lapse  of  mortal  days — 
Days — O  days! — receding  and  returning  waves! — 
All  doors,  windows,  will  be  freely  thrown  open,  celebrat 
ing  my  welcome, 
On  every  doorsill  a  lover  waiting. 


YOU   SEND   YOUR  WINGED    CRAFT   OUT 

You  send  your  winged  craft  out  on  the  waters, 
They  pass  each  other,  sail  east  and  west,  salute,  battle  to 
gether,  travel  against  a  common  enemy, 


OPTIMOS  51 

The  buoyant  ships  your   messengers,    trafficking  with    the 

material  not  of  the  solid  earth, 
Thought  laden,  heart  laden,  unnamed,  pursuing  the  silent 

quest. 

For  what  port  do  they  sail?  do  they  come  back,  empty- 
hulled,  apologetic? 

Some  of  them  wreck  on  farther  shores,  some  return  in  dis 
appointment  clouded: 

O  masters  of  ships!  Do  you  reckon  well  of  the  fleet  sent 
out,  withdrawn,  at  your  will? 

Children  ships  of  the  uprisen  soul,  birthed  of  deep  human 

Joys, 
These   go   their  way,  stern  featured,  hardy  of  rudder  and 

hull,  stiff  of  sail, 
Ships  armored  with  a  vision,  not  fearing  to  assert  their  will 

or  blushing  for  their  mission. 

You  are  launched  from  the  stocks  of  our  labor  and  love, 
You  are  the  best  we  can  give  and  send,  and  are  well  cared 

for  on  the  unplummeted  waters, 
You  are  equipped  for  present  and  future, 
Undestroyed  ever,  indestructible. 

0  children  ships!     I  am  what  you  take  from  me  and  what 

you  bring  back  to  me! 

1  am  the  wavesongs  which  cling  to  your  wet  disabled  hulks, 
I  am  the  windjoys  making  music  of  your  prodigal  conquests, 
I  am  your  failure  and  success,  your  rapture  and  devastation. 

O  eternal  shipmaster!      O  self  not  doubting  self! 
Staunch  are  your  ships,  austere  your  partner  sea, 
For  wreck  or  port  victory  still  your  own. 


52  OPTIMOS 

I   TRACK   UPSTREAM   THE   SPIRIT'S   CALL 

I  track  upstream  the  spirit's  call. 

Far,  far  I  go,  past  all  the  seasoned  ways, 

Challenging  the  cautious  calendars  and  towns. 

I  track  upstream  the  spirit's  call: 

Where  it  will  take  me  I  do  not  know, 

But  my  soul  sees  that  all   is  all  right  and  that  we  are  not 

being  deluded, 
And  my  feet  follow  my  soul,  often  tardily,   but  the  soul 

keeps  on. 

I  linger  with  a  last  apology,  I  play  with  toys, 
I  make  light  of  what  is  off  there  for  what  I  can  here  put 

into  my  palm, 

I  delay  all  farewells  until  the  farewell  of  departure, 
And  finally  when  leaving  shed  tears  of  genuine  regret. 
I  track  upstream  the  spirit's  call, 
Not  daring  now  to  disobey  my  dream. 
I  am  swept  with  the  living  current  on  and  on: 
Into  whatever  storm  I  contentedly  go,  into  whatever  peace. 


THE    GOLDEN    AGE    IS    IN 
MY   HEART  TODAY 


I  have  found  that  love  comes  forth  from  customs  issuing  a  challenge. 
And  love's  challenge  turns  love  loose  upon  you  in  vehement  plenty, 
And  you  go  to  your  root  and  find  love  there  before  you, 
And  you  go  to  your  finished  boughs  and  you  find  love  there  already 

arrived, 

And  you  follow  love  out  of  all  law  and  habit, 
And  you  follow  love  out  of  all  luxury  and  laxity, 
And  you  go  where  love  is  free  and  pure,  and  you  track  love  to  the 

scene  of  its  newday  consummations. 

Once  you  thought  love  was  only  safe  with  the  police  at  its  door: 
you  know  that  love  is  only  safe  when  love  is  not  guarded. 


Friendship  comes  from  the  earth  up  and  from  heaven  down,  where  the 

two  poles  meet  in  the  heart  of  man, 
Friendship  prevails  where  you  stop  and    where   I   begin  and  where  I 

stop  and  you  begin — where  we  meet  and  fade  away  into  another 

presence : 
Yet  all  that  friendship  promises  must    be  in  default  until  the  friend 

appears. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   IS   IN   MY   HEART 
TODAY 

The  golden  age  is  in  my  heart  today: 

It  has  cut  loose  from  all  the  yesterdays  and  tomorrows  and 

allied  itself  with  today: 
It  has  come  out  of  the  poems  and  pictures  and  prophecies 

and  fixed  itself  in  me: 

The  golden  age,  which  you  have  always  looked  back  some 
where  to  see: 
The   golden   age,  which   you   have   always   looked  forward 

somewhere  to  see: 
The  always  postponed  defeated  vision,  retreating  with  your 

retreat,  advancing  with  your  advance: 
The  lure  of  the  young,  the  mockery  of  the  old,  the  folly  of 

noontime: 
The    sacred    perfect    world    everywhere  nowhere  crowded 

with  populations  that  never  lived: 
The   radiant   flawless   sundream    drawing   us   all   body  and 

spirit  into  its  fairy  tangle: 
Oh!     I  who  looked  for  it  outside  myself  in  space  and  time 

and  gave  up  my  search — 
Oh!   I  returning  tired  to  my  own  flesh   to   my  own  spirit 

sank  into  its  eager  arms! 

You  heroes  who  lived  a  long  while  ago  and  you  heroes  who 

are  to  come  a  long  while  after  me, 
You  joys  of  lovers  who  are  dead  and  you  joys  of  lovers  who 

are  unborn, 
You  forecasts  of  seers  whose  scriptures  are  a  thousand  years 

old  or  are  to  come  in  a  thousand  years, 
You  eras  of  ideals  lost  and  you  eras  of  ideals  yet  to  be  won, 

55 


56  OPTIMOS 

You  pastures  and  orchards  and  pipes  of  shepherds  and  social 
plenties  that  belonged  to  our  first  fathers  or  are  to  be 
long  to  our  last  children, 

You  wonders  and  miracles  whatever  you  are  or  are  to  be  in 
joy  and  beauty, 

You  builders  and  singers  and  satisfyers  and  discoverers  who 
lie  dead  in  the  arts  looking  back  or  looking  ahead: 

No  one  knows  better  than  I  know  what  you  stood  for  or  are 
to  stand  for  and  your  measureless  worth: 

And  I  say  you  are  not  to  be  made  less  of  by  me  than  by 
others  who  applaud  and  reverence  you: 

And  I  say  more:  [I  say  that  I  will  make  more  of  you  and 
make  you  more  real  than  others  ever  have  done: 

For  I  say  that  you  are  not  dead  in  books  and  on  canvases 
and  in  scrolls  of  ancient  parchment: 

For  I  say  that  you  are  alive  and  more  than  alive  in  my  heart 
today:  all  of  you,  whether  vanished  or  still  to  appear: 

For  I  say  I  choke  with  you — with  the  amplitudes  and  ful 
nesses  and  majesties  of  your  treasure: 

That  I  do  not  need  to  go  anywhere  to  find  you  in  the 
records  or  forecasts  of  other  people: 

That  I  contain  you  all — pasts  and  futures — with  something 
invaluable  added  out  of  myself: 

That  thousands  of  golden  ages  could  not  equal  in  sweetness 
and  power  that  one  thing  within  my  own  heart — 

That  sweep  of  resistless  youth  that  fires  my  buoyant  blood. 

I  would  be  the  last  to  make  light  of  my  dearer  fathers  or 

my  dearer  sons, 
But  I  see  no  reason  why  they  should  make  light  of  me  who 

am  their  son  and  father, 
And  while  I  take  my  place  with  what  has  happened  and  is 

to  happen  I  also  take  my  place  with  what  is  happening 

here  now  while  I  too  am  around, 


OPTIMOS  57 

For  though  I  have  gathered  harvests  I  have  also  planted:   I 

sow  as  well  as  reap: 
And  though  I  am  only  a  simple  man  with  no  virtues  or  gifts 

to  speak  of  I  too  am  well   enough  off  to  go  into  the 

richest  company: 
And  but  for  me  no  golden  age  would  ever  have  been  or  ever 

could  be:  for  me  or  something  in  me: 
But  for  my  passionate  love,  but  for  my  flaming  dream,  but 

for  my  imperturbable  cheer: 
Not  because   I  am  different  or  superior  but  because  I  am 

usual  and  common: 
If  you  take  me  for  a  knower  you  will  find  that  I  contain 

nothing, 

If  you  take  me  for  a  fool  I  will  surprise  you  with  my  wis 
dom, 
If  you  take  me  for  a  saint  you  will  stumble  upon  me  in  the 

midst  of  my  sins, 
If  you  take  me  for  a  felon  you  will  have  to  acknowledge  my 

nobility, 
For  the  amount  of  it  all  is  that  I  am  not  what  you  take  me 

for  but  what  I  am: 
For  the  amount  of  it  all  is  that  the  golden  age  is  not  what 

you  take  it  for  in   time  but  what  it  comes  to  in  your 

heart. 

The  golden  age  comes  to  new  life  and  love  in  my  heart: 
It  does  not  come  to  money  or  fame  or  rulership  but  to  men 

and  women  and  children: 
It  does  not  come  to  anything  that  the  world  hears  of  but  to 

something  that  never  asks  you  to  acknowledge  it: 
It  does  not  come   to  states  or  churches  or  institutions   or 

parties  of  any  sort  but  just  to  you  and  to  me: 
It  is  invested  with  untold  energies  and  cant  be  resisted  and 

yet  never  sets  itself  upon  a  throne: 


58  OPTIMOS 

It  does  not  have  to  go  out  of  its  own  time  or  its  own  peo 
ple  to  manifest  itself  but  is  immediately  victorious: 

The  golden  age,  which  once  was  farthest  off,  which  now  is 
closest  by, 

Crowding  me  with  its  provocations,  lifting  me  upon  its 
imminent  peaks. 

I  have  read  with  dimmer  eyes  the  fading  tale  of  a  van 
quished  paradise: 

The  faithless  priests  lose  themselves  among  the  stars  grop 
ing  for  a  miracle: 

I  need  no  miracle:  I  am  too  much  alive  to  postpone  my 
exultations: 

The  distant  impossible  things  have  come  next  to  me  with 
their  possible  raptures: 

The  flower  has  opened  before  my  eyes  so  that  I  can  touch 
and  fondle  it  and  smell  its  perfume: 

That  which  everybody  waits  for  I  bring  and  they  might 
bring  if  they  got  as  near  to  life  as  to  death: 

I  do  not  cry  for  help  into  the  spent  years  or  against  still 
unopened  doors: 

The  best  comes  to  pass  in  me  right  where  I  am:  the  best 
that  has  been  and  the  best  that  is  promised: 

The  golden  age  is  in  my  heart  today. 

HOW  ARE   YOU   DEAR  WORLD   THIS 
MORNING? 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning  ? 

Clean  from  my  bath  of  sleep, 

Warm  from  the  bosom  of  my  mother  star, 

Recharged  with  the  energy  of  my  father  self, 

Restored  from  all  derelict  hours  to  the  lawful  service  of  time, 

I  come  without  gift  or  doctrine  or  tethering  humor 

To  entertain  your  fateful  will. 


OPTIMOS  59 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning? 

I  went  to  bed  last  night  in  the  twist  and  snarl  of  a  problem. 

Have  you  awakened  me  to  a  revelation? 

Has  some  change  come  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  and  the 
heart  of  man? 

Was  life  still  busy  while  my  life  slept? 

Was  something  done  with  the  dreams  of  my  sorrow  and  joy 
to  transfigure  in  man  the  drag  of  his  daily  task? 

Have  all  the  prophets  who  died  unfulfilled  and  all  the  plain 
men  and  women  and  children  who  burned  or  starved 
from  injustice  come  back  to  earth  to  partake  of  a  de 
ferred  feast? 

What  is  it  dear  world  I  bring  with  empty  hands  to  your 
morning? 

What  is  it  dear  world  you  bring  with  hands  as  empty  to  my 
bedside? 

Do  the  things  that  were  stolen  remain  stolen? 

Do  the  lives  that  were  destroyed  remain  dead? 

Do  the  stragglers  who  failed  still  fail? 

Does  the  sleeper  who  slept  the  sleep  of  the  merchant  awake 
only  to  the  merchant? 

Does  the  law  that  was  yesterday  at  my  throat  awake  only  to 
the  law? 

Does  the  singer  awake  only  to  sing,  the  artist  to  paint,  and 
the  orator  to  talk? 

Or  does  the  merchant  awake  to  the  man? 

Or  does  the  law  of  the  state  awake  to  the  law  of  the  heart? 

Or  do  stolen  things  shift  back  into  right  relations? 

Or  is  the  singer  silent,  or  does  the  artist  put  aside  his 
paints,  or  has  the  orator  stopt  talking,  because  some 
thing  greater  than  song  or  art  or  eloquence  has  ap 
peared  in  the  face  of  the  multitude? 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning? 


60  OPTIMOS 

We  have  had  confidences  other  days  but  somehow  the  confi 
dences  of  this  day  are  sweetest  of  all, 

They  find  me  where  I  am  remote,  they  seek  me  out  where 
I  am  reluctant,  they  confirm  me  where  I  am  weak, 

They  melt  me  down  from  flaw  and  angle  into  purity  and 
circle, 

They  interpret  me  to  last  night's  strangers  and  they  intro 
duce  me  to  the  real  meaning  of  my  vagrant  past, 

They  remove  me  from  my  quarrels  and  they  deliver  me  to 
truce  and  peace. 

For  now  I  see  that  when  of  old  I  thought  of  justice  and  be 
lieved  I  was  dreaming  that  only  then  was  I  awake, 

For  now  I  see  that  when  of  old  I  thought  I  hated  some  peo 
ple  and  loved  other  people  I  neither  hated  nor  loved 
but  honored  all  in  a  spirit  superior  to  hate  or  love, 

For  now  I  see  that  the  wrongdoer  is  the  first  to  withdraw 
wrong  and  is  the  only  one  who  can  withdraw  it, 

For  now  I  see  that  all  the  effort  I  spent  trying  to  discover 
why  lives  were  beautiful  or  ugly  has  shown  me  that  all 
ugliness  and  all  beauty  finally  must  lapse  in  one  trans 
figuration, 

For  now  in  the  confidences  of  this  morning,  in  the  rapture 
of  this  awakening,  I  find  my  illimitable  roots  trailed 
backward  and  forward  and  round  into  all  time  and  all 
men, 

Pledging  my  love  to  countless  surrenders  and  repeals. 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning? 

Was  not  our  love  worth  last  night's  sleep? 

Was  not  our  love  worth  this  morning's  call? 

I  have  left  my  despairs  on  the  other  side  of  the  sun. 

A  fresher  self  acknowledging  my  soul  steps  forth  from  all 

foiled  endeavor, 
To  answer  your  rigorous  cry. 


OPTIMOS  61 

How  are  you  dear  world  this  morning  ? 

Clean  from  my  bath  of  sleep, 

Warm  from  the  bosom  of  my  mother  star, 

Recharged  with  the  energy  of  my  father  self, 

Restored  from  all  derelict  hours  to  the  lawful  service  of  time, 

I  come  without  gift  or  doctrine  or  tethering  humor 

To  entertain  your  fateful  will. 


I    HAVE   HAD    SUCH   JOY    ON   THE   EARTH 

I  have  had  such  joy  on  the  earth, 

So  many  of  the  things  that  seemed   to   have  started  wrong 

have  ended  right, 
So  many  of  the  ecstasies  have  come  out  of  so  many  of  the 

sorrows  of  the  years, 
So  many  of  the  most  clouded  mornings  have  so  opened  the 

way  to  the  most  sunny  afternoons, 
Evil  has  everywhere  and  always  so  refused  to  stop  with  evil 

and  has  gone  on  to  good, 
Death  has  everywhere  and  always  so  refused  to  stop  with 

death  and  has  gone  on  to  life, 
That  I  stand  happy  and  satisfied  surveying  the  tangle  through 

which  I  have  broken  a  way. 

I  know  I  could  argue  about  the  good  and  the  bad  and  lose 

myself  by  the  way, 

But  I  choose  the  other  path — I  go  with  belief: 
The  world  is  mine  to  do  with   it  what  I  please  so  I  please 

to  give  it  to  love, 
And  whether  I  travel  down  hill  or  up  hill  I  please  to  make 

down  and  up  the  equal  avenues  to  salvation, 
And  whether  it  is  silly  or  wise  I  cast  my  vote  for  the  faith 

I  want  to  be  true. 


62  OPTIMOS 

Am  I  to  say  that  joy  only  tells  of  itself  in  a  laugh? 
Am  I  to  say  that  joy  only  tells  of  itself  in  the  full  day? 
Am  I  to  say  that  joy  only  tells  of  itself  in  acts  of  charity 

and  justice? 
Am  I  to  say  that  joy  has  no  other  side  of  shadow  to  which 

its  light  must  be  evermore  referred? 

If  I  thought  joy  was  only  one  thing  and  never  another  thing, 
If  I  thought  joy  could  be  merry  and  could  not  be  sad, 
If  I  thought  joy  could  only  be  kind  and  could  not  be  cruel, 
If  I  thought  joy  could  provide  for  the  heaven  and  not  pro 
vide  for  the  hell  of  the  earth, 

I   would  put  joy   out   of  my  plans  and  make  another  guess 
towards  God. 

I  do  not  feel  as  if  the  earth  had  cheated  me, 

I  feel  as  if  the  earth  is  bound  to  keep  its  contract  with  me — 

Its  contract  of  death  and  life,  of  retreats  and  advances, 

Its  contract  of  mystery,  its  contract  of  revelation, 

Its  contract  of  today  and  its  contract  of  tomorrow. 

Am  I  confused  by  the  bloodstream  of  war  and  greed? 

I  will  take  war  itself  and  refer  it  to  our  contract  and  give  it 

to  joy, 
I  will  take  greed  itself  and  refer  it  to  our  contract  and  give 

it  to  joy, 
And  the  man  half  done  in  barbarism  to  man  will  finish  in 

conciliation  to  man. 

Joy  is  my  boon  companion,  it  goes  where  I  go, 

In  grief  joy  is  still  joy,  in  defeat  joy  is  still  joy, 

It  rainbows  my  tears,  it  ladders  me  up  impossible  ascents, 

It  nestles  itself  at  my  root  and  cares  for  me  like  rain  and 

heat, 
It  flies  its  free  way  through  spaces  and  sings  like  a  bird  in 

my  tree, 


OPTIMOS  63 

Joy  is  my  boon  companion,  it  goes  where  I  go. 

I  am  a  singer  of  joy  to  the  earth, 

I  am  going  to  take  joy  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 

I  am  going  to  give  joy  to  you,  to  you,  to  you, 

Whether  you  ask  for  it  or  not,  give  joy, 

Whether  you  reach  both  arms  out  for  it  or  turn  your  back, 

give  joy, 

I  am  going  to  take  a  joy  to  every  sorrow  in  the  world, 
I  am  going  to  take  a  joy  to  the  perpetrator  and  to  the  vic 
tim  of  every  wrong, 
I   am   going  to   take  a  joy  to  every  doubt  of  joy  the   earth 

across. 

Whether  rejected  or  looked  for  I  will  be  on  hand  with  joy, 
For  I  who  have  had  such  joy  on  the  earth 
Have  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  joy  back  again  to  men — 
Being  so  full  and  run  over  with  joy,  give  joy  back, 
Being  so  convinced  of  beauty  and  grace,  give  joy  back. 
Joy  flows  out  of  me  because  nothing  could  keep  it  in — 
It  breaks  out  of  my  eyes  and  lips  and  the  shake  of  my  hand, 
It  is  resistless,  it  is  inevitable,  it  claims  the  biggest  place, 
Fulfilling  in  the  nearest  life  the  farthest  ideal. 
Shall  I  stand  aloof  and  say  nothing  and  look  black? 
All  that  was  otherwise  lost  I  will  win: 
Other  men  have  come  to  fulfil  and  have  been  fulfilled — 
Why  should  I  too  not  come  to  fulfil  and  be  fulfilled? 
I  who  have  had  such  joy  on  the  earth? 


I    DO    NOT    ASK    THINGS    TO    GO    MY   WAY 

I  do  not  ask  things  to  go  my  way:  I  go  my  way  myself: 
I  do  not  growl  when  the  fates  seem  against  me: 
Why  should  I  care  as  long  as  I  am  not  against  myself? 


64  OPTIMOS 

I  hear  you  speak  of  your  star  and  point  to  the  skies  in  the 

night: 
I,  too,  speak  of  my  star,  but  my  star  is  myself  and  shines 

in  my  own  soul. 
You  say  that  everything  is  going  the  other  way:  you  know 

it:  you  have  seen  it  with  your  own  eyes: 
But  how  can  everything  be  going  the  other  way  so  long  as  I 

keep  on  going  this  way? 

I  would  be  afraid  of  the  earth  if  I  was  at  odds  with  myself: 
But  when  I  am  on  good  terms  with  myself  anything  may  go 

wrong,  I  will  not  go  wrong: 
I  could  not  tell  you  how  more  than  ever  right  I  shall  be 

then  in  the  stern  hour  of  my  reverses. 
I  say  to  the  winds:  it's  no  use:  blow  however  strong  I  stand 

however  steady: 
I   say  to  the  fires:   burn  however  fiercely  I  fan  an  intenser 

counter  flame: 
I  say  to  the  mob:   howl  however  loud  I  shall  defy  you  in  a 

louder  voice: 
I  say  to  death:    fall  round  me   in  whatever  blackness  I  will 

make  my  sunbeam  bright  enough  to  break  through  you 

in  glory. 
Do  not  tremble,  O  my  brother — the  world  is  all  right  if 

you  are  all  right: 

I  am  not  cheating  you  with  promises  that  cannot  be  kept — 
I   know  my  way:    in   the    deepest  confusion  know  my  way 

best. 

I  have  not  been  alone  with  myself  for  so  long  for  nothing, 
I  have  not  taken  counsel  of  my  own  soul  all  these  years  for 

nothing: 
There  must  have  been  a  good  reason  for  the  preparations 

and  the  delays, 

There  must  have  been  a  good  reason  for  the  miseries  1  suf 
fered- 


OPTIMOS  65 

Now  they  are  all  gone  and  I  am   of  all   men   the   happiest 

man, 
And  now  I  see  that  happiness  was  the  good  reason  and  that 

the  good  reason  eternally  prevails. 
I   do  not  think  there  is  anything  finer  than  to  know  how 

good  your  friends  are  to  you — 
Nothing  finer  except  perhaps  this,  to  know  how  good  you 

may  be  to  yourself: 
I  love  the  thought  of  my  friends  and  I  love  the  thought  of 

myself, 
But  sometimes  I  have  to  say  goodbye  to  my  friends  while 

I  never  have  to  say  goodbye  to  myself: 
And  so  it  is  with  you,  my  brother,  dear  brother,  just  as  it 

is  with  me: 

I  come  and  go  but  you  to  yourself  forever  faithfully  remain. 
It  may  be  very  foolish  to  be  so  well  satisfied  with  your  own 

soul — 

It  may  be  like  following  a  light  leading  you  nowhere, 
It  may  be  like  being  in  a  boat  going  to  sea  without  a  rudder, 
It  may  be  like  drawing  a  check  on  a  bank  that  does  not  exist: 
It  may  be  all  that  is  foolish  and  more  than  foolish: 
But  somehow   I    am  ever   so   well  satisfied  with  my    own 

soul — ever  so  well: 
Am   never  so  well  satisfied  as  when  all  things  seem  to  be 

going  against  me, 
Am  never  so  well  satisfied  as  when  the  last  hope  is  forfeited 

and  the  light  seems  getting  ready  to  go  out 
My  friends  all  tell  me  I  am  a  fool, 
My  pocket  book  tells  me  I  am  a  fool, 
The  great  fame  I  might  have  won  tells  me  I  am  a  fool, 
And  if  that  is  the  only  way  a  man  has  of  knowing  himself 

the  question  would  be  settled. 
But  I  stand  aside  for  all  who  say  so  much  and  say  nothing 

myself, 


66  OPTIMOS 

And  until  I  tell  myself  I  am  a  fool  I  guess  I  must  continue 

to  travel  my  wise  own  way. 
I  know  that  things  do  not  go  the  way  of  the  man  who  does 

not  go  the  way  of  things: 
I  do  not  ask  things  to  go  my  way. 


WHY   DO    I    FEEL   SO    GOOD? 

Why  do  I  feel  so  good  this  morning? 

What  is  there  in  the  air  I  breathe  that  makes  it  seem  differ 
ent  from  the  air  of  other  days? 

Why  is  it  that  the  one  usual  sun  shines  with  the  light  of 
twenty  suns? 

Why  is  it  that  I  offer  my  hand  to  everybody  and  offer  my 
love  without  reserve  to  everyone  I  meet? 

Why  is  it  that  things  have  larger  meanings  than  yesterday? 

Something  has  happened  with  the  night  and  the  day  that 
transcends  the  night  and  the  day. 

The  farthest  glory  of  the  universe  has  distilled  itself  into 
the  nearest  life. 

I  find  myself  repeating  a  strange  alphabet  and  spelling 
beautiful  words 

Why  do  I  feel  so  good  this  morning? 

I  do  not  know  to  tell  you:  do  you  know  to  tell  me? 

I  can  never  tell  the  why  of  my  fuller  life, 

But  I  know  it  has  a  why  and  I  know  it  need  not  be  told: 

I  know  that  joy  comes   to   me  without  reason  and   makes 

itself  at  home  in  my  heart, 
Explaining  the  shadow  of  imperfection  in  the  rapture  of 

the  perfect, 

Completing  the  circuit  of  my  cosmic  prayer. 
This  is  the  hour  of  pardon  and  of  requital, 


OPTIMOS  67 

This  hour  of  the  morning  coming  no  one  knows  how, 
This  hour  that  can  give  no  account  of  itself  in  traditions  of 

heaven  or  hell, 
This  hour  that  comes  without  debt  or  the  treasure  to  pay 

debt, 

This  irresponsible  hour,  this  glad  hour  of  careless  excess, 
This  hour  of  the  repeal  of  law,  this  hour  of  the  negation  of 

precept, 

Given  to  me  without  terms  in  abandon  of  forthright  joy, 
Mine,  mine,  to  be  henceforth  riotous  in  my  blood  forever. 

Why  do  I  feel  so  good  this  morning? 

I  think  God  has  written  a  new  will  and  made  me  his  heir, 

(Brother,  you  may  feel  as  I  do,  and  become  yourself,  too, 

that  only  heir), 
I  think  heaven  has  been  adjourned  to  reassemble  itself  in 

the  paradise  of  my  personal  heart, 
(Brother,  you  may  feel   as  I   do,  and  heaven  will  adjourn 

itself  for  you  as  it  has  for  me), 
I  think  the  natural   laws  have  taken  some  time  off  and  left 

me  to  run  things  for  a  while  myself, 
(Brother  you  may  feel  as  I   do,  and  the  natural  laws  will 

stand  aside  for  you  as  they  do  for  me), 

I  think  I  never  felt  myself  so  much  smaller  than  my  small 
est  brother  and  so  much  bigger  than  my  biggest  brother, 
(Brother,  you  may  feel  as  I  do,  and  you  too  will  then  see 

that  there  is  no  man  great  and  no  man  inferior  but  that 

love  floats  all  alike  on  the  level  of  the  same  stream), 
I  think  the  sky  above  me  is  mysterious  as  it  never  has  been 

mysterious  before,  and  clearer  as  it  has  never  been  clear 

before, 
(Brother,  you  may  feel  as  I  do,  and  the  mystery  and  the 

confession  of  the  sky  will  be  to  you  as  they  have  been 

to  me). 


68  OPTIMOS 

Why  do  I  feel  so  good  this  morning,  dear  brother? 

I  seem  capable  of  justice,  I  seem  equal  to  love. 

Yet  the  morning  says  nothing  to  me,  speaks  me  no  words, 

and  nothing  out  of  the  way  has  happened. 
Yet  I  feel  so  good  this  morning: 
I  may  be  deceived,  I  may  be  lured  to  destruction, 
Yet  I  feel  so  good,  I  feel  so  good. 


COME   UP   WHERE   YOU    BELONG 

A  voice  descended  to  me  from  a  great  height, 

A  voice  of  fierce  command,  a  voice  of  tender  appeal, 

A  familiar  voice,  a  voice  I  was  bound  to  recognize — 

Ah  yes,  my  own  voice,  my  own  voice,  descending  from  the 

great  height, 
My  own  voice  hailing  me  and  crying  in  accents  of  fate   to 

me: 
Come  up  where  you  belong  !  come  up  where  you  belong ! 

And  so  I  listened  and  was  told  the  plain  truth  about  myself. 

Why  do  I  stand  back  as  if  I  was  of  no  account? 

Why  do  I  give  room  for  the  trees  to  grow  and  refuse  to  take 

room  for  my  soul  to  grow? 

Why  am  I  afraid  of  love  and  afraid  to  let  love  grow? 
Why  am  I  afraid  of  justice  and  afraid  to  let  justice  grow? 
Why  am  I  afraid  of  the  heart  and  afraid  to  let  the   heart 

grow  ? 
Why  do  I  stay  down  here  afraid  when  I  should  be  way  up 

there  without  a  fear? 
Why  am  I  afraid  to  write  the  right  songs  and  afraid  to  let 

the  right  songs  grow? 
Why  am  I  afraid  to  paint  the  right  pictures  and  afraid  to  let 

the  right  pictures  grow? 


OPTIMOS  69 

I  hear  the  voice  cry  to  my  picture:  Come  up  where  you  telong  ! 
I  hear  the  voice  cry  to  my  art  however   it  dallies:    Come  up 

where  you  belong  ! 

I  have  stayed — I  have  stayed — and  now  the  voice  is  impera 
tive: 
When  I  have  done  the  worst  my  voice  is  still  imperative  for 

the  best. 
The   Lord  your  self  is  there  and  calls:    Come  up  where  you 

-belong  ! 

And  though  you  do  not  hear  the  Lord  your  self  still  calls, 
And  though  you  hear  and  do  not  go  the  Lord  your  self  still 

calls, 
And  what  you  cannot  do  unaided  you  can  do  when  you  help 

your  self. 

The  biggest  things  always  take  you  up  and  up — 
The  biggest  you  always  cries  to  the  smallest  you:    Come  up 

where  you  belong  ! 

And  when  your  art  stands  back  cries, 
And  when  your  daily  work  stands  back  cries, 
And  when  your  book  stands  back  cries, 
And  when  anything  you  do  stands  back  cries, 
For  no  one  and  nothing  is  finally  to  be  deserted  below  the 

highest  plane, 
And  one  time  or  other  everything  rises  to  the  level  of  the 

eternal  call: 

Come  up  where  you  belong  !  come  up  where  you  belong  ! 
Rises  to  the  level  of  the  eternal  call. 

I  see  your  soul  on  the  great  crest  of  its  faith  standing  ready 

to  receive  you: 
The  way  up  may  seem  hard  and  hopeless  but  there  is  a  way 

and  you  will  climb: 

I  do  not  expect  you  to  make  excuses  and  stay  where  you  are, 
I  expect  you  to  cry  to  your  soul's  cry  the  immortal  here! 


70  OPTIMOS 

Oh  God!   I  am  persuaded!   I  depart!   I  go  at  last  to  my  soul! 

I  cut  the  chains  that  bind — I  demand  to  be  free,  to  be  free! 

The  last  income  I  cut,  the  last  success  I  cut,  the  last  song 
and  picture  I  cut, 

I  go  where  I  hear  the  voice,  my  voice,  that  calls  me  up! 

I  emerge  from  the  difficult  tangles  of  service  to  the  clear 
worship  of  the  steep  beyond: 

Nothing  can  hold  me  back — the  soul  calls  in  my  own  voice: 

Dare  I  say  no  to  my  own  voice  from  the  giddy  ascent? 

I  go  without  burdens,  I  tear  myself  loose  from  the  bribes  of 
the  causeway — 

Nothing  can  now  delay  my  passage,  nothing  can  now  come 
between  me  and  my  soul: 

My  soul  up  there  belongs  to  me — I  will  have  it — I  will  pos 
sess  its  last  eminence: 

0  soul  do  you  not  hear  me?     Hello  soul!     I  come!   I  come! 
You  will  not  need  to  wait  much  longer  to  embrace  me — 

1  am  on  the  way — my  eyes  look  up,  up,  into  your  affirming 

face — 
I  hear  your  cry  and  I  am  on  the  way  to  make  it  good  O 

my  soul! 
Come  up  where  you  belong  !  come  up  where  you  belong  ! 


LET    ME    BE   CHEERFUL    FOR   YOU    ALL 

Let  me  be  cheerful  for  you  all:  cheerful,  forever  cheerful, 
for  you  all: 

Even  when  the  malign  seems  to  happen  instead  of  the  mer 
ciful,  let  me  be  cheerful  for  you  all: 

Let  me  bring  the  sunshine  to  you  who  are  in  darkness:  to 
all  of  you: 

Let  me  bring  dancing  and  joy  to  you  who  are  in  despair:  to 
all  of  you: 


OPTIMOS  71 

I  will  lift  you  up  out  of  danger  with  my  laugh:  all  of  you — 
all  of  you: 

I  will  put  my  arm  under  you  whether  you  deserve  it  or  not 
and  charge  you  with  farther  faith, 

I  will  be  like  another  earth  for  you  to  stand  on  and  be 
sure  of, 

I  will  be  like  another  sky  for  other  suns  to  shine  out  of 
upon  your  head, 

I  will  smilingly  cushion  your  hurts  and  stir  your  last  hope 
to  discovery  with  my  hurrahs: 

I  will  not  be  reasonable  or  show  sense  but  I  will  be  cheer 
ful: 

I  will  not  be  afraid  to  face  the  music:  I  will  face  it  though 
there's  death  in  it  with  cheer: 

For  it  is  my  business  being  so  extra  much  alive  to  be  cheer 
ful:  to  be  cheerful  for  all, 

As  it  would  equally  be  my  business  if  I  was  extra  much 
dead  to  die  if  I  could  no  longer  be  cheerful — cheerful 
for  all. 

Being  cheerful  for  all  does  not  mean  not  to  suffer — not  to 

lose: 
It  does   not  mean  not  knowing  enough   to  know  pain:  it 

means  knowing  too  much  to  know  pain: 
I,  too,  have  gone  as  far  down  as  anybody  into   hell:    I   have 

not  asked  to  be  spared: 
How  otherwise  would   I  be   able  to  take  you  so  far  up  up 

into  heaven? 
Do  you  think  that  because  you  see  me  going  about  looking 

so  well  satisfied  with  things  that  I  am  heartless? 
Why,  it  is  my  heart  that  makes  me  gay  and  sufficient — that 

steadies  and  saves  me: 

My  heart  goes  freely  everywhere  and  brings  me  back  beau 
tiful  reports  of  men; 


72  OPTIMOS 

Brings    me    back    witnesses,    lovers,   those    who    work    for 

others,  crowding  me  with  divine  guests: 
My    heart   going   where   nothing  else  of   me  could  go  and 

bringing  me  back  that  which  nothing  else  of  me  could 

bring. 
You  do  not  see  me  when  I  am  sorry  for  myself — when  I, 

too,  go  into  my  closet  with  my  own  soul: 
You  do  not  see  me  when  I  am  driven  here  and  there  in  the 

night  wondering  whether  love  is  in  the  end  worth  its 

keep: 
And  yet  I  pass  only  by  the  usual  route  to  joy — I  go  only  by 

the  common  path  to  cheer: 
There  could  be  no  yes  where  there  is  no  no  to  provoke  it: 

no  vision  where  there  is  no  blindness: 
I  am  not  cheerful  because  I  suffer  less  but  because  I  suffer 

more  than  you  suffer: 
I  enter  upon  my  cheer  through  the  gate  of  grief  for  I  know 

what  is  within. 
When  you  see  a  little  you  die  but  when  you  see  more  you 

live: 
And  so  as  we  journey  together  I  will  be  cheerful  for  you 

when  you  cant  be  cheerful  for  yourself, 
And  I  will  pick  up  my  brothers  who  have  fallen  not  with 

my  hands  but  with  my  cheer, 

And  I  will  revive  my  brothers  who  have  succumbed  to  ad 
versity  not  with  cash  out  of  a  bank  but  with  cheer  out 

of  my  red  blood: 
For  my  cheer  will  go  where  no  touch  of  the  body  can  go, 

where  no  gold  of  realms  can  go: 
And  you  who  once  alien  become  at  home  among  men  and 

stars  must  acknowledge  and  hail  me. 

Let  me  say  something  more,  dear  comrades,  you  men  and 
women  and  children  the  world  over: 


OPTIMOS  73 

I  am  not  cheerful  for  you  all  because  I  am  alone  necessary 

to  you:  that  would  put  my  price  too  high: 
I  am  cheerful  for  you  all  because  you  are  also  necessary  to 

me:  that  fixes  the  just  value  upon  my  place: 
I  am  not  above  you  or  below  you  but   in  the  midst  of  you 

keeping  my  appointments: 
I   merely  give  back   in  a  small  way  to  you  that  which  you 

have  lavished  upon  me  till  I  choke  with  plenty. 
You  do  not  perhaps  know  what  that  is — what  it  all   issues 

from  and  goes  towards, 
But    I   know  it   all   comes  from   you — that  but  for  you  it 

would  not  exist  and  I  as  I  am  would  not  exist, 
And    so   I   am   richly   cheerful   for   you  all  without   being 

cheaply  important  for  myself, 
And    I   am   better   than   armies   and   markets  to   you  when 

treachery  has  balked  your  trust, 
And  I  have  no  more  right  to  be  down  in  the  mouth  than  to 

put  out  the  sun, 
For  I  must  always  make  it  clear  to  the  countless  numbers 

that  wait  for  me  that  I  also  wait  for  them, 
And  that  cheer  is  due  other  men  from  me:   whatever  they 

come  to  me  with,  is  due  to  them, 
And  that  anything  less  than  cheer  would  be  so  much  less 

than  life  and  so  much  amounting  to  murder, 
And  that  I  for  my  part  whatever  you  do  owe  the  crowd  my 

succoring  trumpet  cry — 
Though  there  is  no  way  to  explain   it,  owe  the  crowd   the 

first  word  and  last  word  of  illumination. 

You  who  must  mourn,  mourn — cry  your  fill:    lament: 

You  who  have  lost  all  have  not  lost  me:  take  what  comfort 

you  can  of  me: 
I  will  be  cheerful  for  you  all:  nothing  can  occur  to  confute 

my  cheer: 


74  OPTIMOS 

Go  round  if  you  must  bent  sad  bereaved:  give  your  years  up 
to  your  days: 

I  do  not  ask  you  to  gambol  with  me  in  this  frolic  of  my 
inimitable  feet: 

I  will  be  cheerful  enough  to  rejoice  for  all:  I  will  add  cheer 
to  cheer  till  my  total  is  adequate  for  all  and  beyond: 

And  so  now  you  know  why  I  am  seen  everywhere  strong 
insolent  erect  and  happy, 

And  you  know  why  I  slap  every  funeral  on  the  back  and 
startle  it  laughing  out  of  its  formulas  and  mockeries 
and  blasphemies, 

And  you  know  why  no  argument  could  dispose  of  me  be 
cause  I  am  not  reasonable  and  why  no  argument  could 
start  where  I  start  from  and  follow  me  to  my  results, 

And  that  is  why  you  will  let  me  be  cheerful  for  you  all: 
cheerful,  forever  cheerful,  for  you  all. 


WHEN  I  GO  ROUND  HOLDING  MY  HEAD  UP 

When  I  go  round  holding  my  head  up, 

When  I  put  on  a  look  as  if  I  was  expecting  unprecedented 

blessedness  for  myself, 
When  I  take  with  joy  that  which  comes   wept  over  and 

complained  about, 
When  I  make  so  much  less  than  loss  of  loss  and  so  much 

more  than  gain  of  gain, 
When  the  people  stop   gazing  at   their  leaders  and  teachers 

and  gaze  at  me, 
When  the  sun  dont  seem  so  much  brighter  than  everything 

else  after  all  but  something  in  my  face  seems  brighter 

than  the  sun, 
It  is  not  that  I  am  cynical  or  proud  or  want  to  lord  it  over 

anybody — 


OPTIMOS  75 

No,  it  is  not  that,  it   is  everyway  different  from  that,  dear 

comrades: 
It  is  only  that  I  see  luckier  days  for  the  people  beyond  their 

despairs, 
It  is  only  that  I  can  smile  for  knowing  the  good  fortune  in 

store  for  man. 

No  one  will  ever  know  me  for  a  prophet  of  evil — 

I  am  able  to  see  what  is  bad  but  I  am  able  to  prophesy  only 

what  is  noble. 
It  dont  seem  to  me  I  could  look  any  man  in  the  eye  and 

predict  disaster  for  him: 
He  may  be  very  imperfect  but  he  is  better  than  the  law  that 

would  let  him  fail. 

My  first  call  and  my  last  call  is  the  call  of  succor: 
I  would  feel  guilty  enough  if  I  had  to  say  to  any  man:  I  can 

do  nothing  for  you. 
Do  you  think  the  universe  would  dare  to  say  it  could  do 

nothing  for  you? 
Try  to  think  what  that  would  mean — try  to  measure  the 

fearful  confession: 
Take  the  stars  out  of  the  heavens — it  would  mean  more  than 

that, 
Take   justice   out   of   the  dreams  of   man — it  would  mean 

more  than  that, 
Take  love  out  of  the  flesh  and  soul  of  man  and  woman — it 

would  mean  more  than  that. 
Do  nothing  for  him?   I  can  do  everything  for  him. 

Come  to  me,  I  will  speak  the  last  word,  I  will  restore  you. 

I  am  nobody — I  have  no  great  name  to  invoke  in  your  be 
half: 

I  am  only  myself — I  can  only  speak  in  my  own  name  and 
let  it  go  at  that. 


76  OPTIMOS 

Yet  I  am  very  haughty,  too:   I  am  not  willing  to  talk  in  a 

poor  way  about  my  rich  soul: 

I  want  it  to  be  clear  how  much  I  honor  my  inheritance: 
I  am  not  blind  to  the  glory  of  the  light  that  bursts  from  me, 
I  am  stunned  by  the  beauty  of  the  song  that  leaps  from  my 

heart, 
I  see  that  greater  than  any  love  so  far  my  love  will   include 

exclusion  and  call  the  exiles  home. 

That  is  the  reason  I  go  round  holding  my  head  up: 

If  I  felt  mean  about   the  earth  I  would  call  on  God   for  an 

apology, 
If  I  felt  mean  because  men   go  wrong  I  would   feel   just  as 

mean  because  they  go  right, 
And   if  I   felt  mean  about  the  issue  of  life  I  would  feel  too 

mean  to  be  alive, 
For  nothing  saves  you  or  saves  me  but   our  respect  for  you 

and  for  me — 
No   matter  what  the   critics  and  the   despondents  may  say, 

our  respect  for  you  and  for  me: 
And  so  I  challenge  all  the  grief  of  life  and  death  by  all  the 

gladness  of  life  and  death, 
And    I   challenge   all   the  sickness  of   the   flesh    by  all  the 

health  of  the  flesh, 

And  I  challenge  all   the  greed  of  the  world  by  all  the  gen 
erosity  of  the  world, 
And  I  challenge  hell  by  heaven,  and  treason  by  loyalty,  and 

see  them  subserve  a  compensating  scheme, 
And   I   challenge  the  fear  of  the  shadow  by  the  lure  of  the 

light, 
And  I  challenge  the  brightness  of  the  day  by  the  radiance  of 

the  spirit, 
And   I   challenge  every  question  of  dismay  by  every  answer 

of  hope — 


OPTIMOS  77 

Not  caring  what  reasons  and  evidences  may  seem  to  say, 
challenging  them  by  what  impulse  and  vision  may  be 
known  to  say: 

And  so  I  go  everywhere  among  men  championing  the  dear 
purpose  of  the  stars. 

I  do  not  undertake  to  explain  the  strange  power  that  en 
thralls  me: 
I  do  not  see  how  my  passion  comes  but  I  see  what  it  comes 

to, 
Nor  my  love:   I  do  not  see  how  my  love  comes  but  I  see 

what  it  comes  to, 
Nor  can  I  tell  how  my  dark  or  light  diminishes  or  increases 

the  splendor  of  the  day  but  I  do  not  scoff, 
Nor  why  men  stop  as  I  pass  and  ask  each  other  who  I  am 

but  I  know  they  feel  better  about  their  troubles  after 

they  have  seen  me. 
That   is  what  I  have  to  say  when  I  go  round  holding  my 

head  up. 


WHY   SHOULDN'T   I  BE   STUCK  ON    MYSELF? 

Why  shouldn't  I  be  stuck  on  myself? 

I  do  not  pass  on  my  way  by  anybody's  leave: 

I  am  sent  by  the  universe  to  do  the  errands  of  infinity: 

I  am  the  delegate  of  all  the  powers  standing  for  the  cosmic 

intentions: 
Look  at  me:  see  in  me  the  envoy  of  Jupiter  and  Mars:  read 

my  credentials: 
I  am  not  a  child  of  children  born  out  of  the  ground  to  the 

ends  of  the  ground — 
I  am  a  god  of  gods  born  out  of  the  heavens  to  the  ends  of 

the  spirit: 


78  OPTIMOS 

I  am  the  carrier  of  worlds  to  worlds  across  the  abysms  of 

skies: 
I  do  not  discredit  my  office:  I  dare  not  cheapen  the  glory  of 

my  mission: 

High  as  the  ascents  of  space,  higher  I  fly: 
Deep  as  the  roots  of  being,  deeper  I  dig: 
Strange  as  the  mysteries  of  time,  stranger  I  am: 
Lovely  as  the  beauty  of  things  or  souls,  lovelier  I  seem. 

I  could  not  think  well  of  you,  dear  comrade,  unless  I  first 

thought  well  of  myself, 

Or  think  joy  of  you  unless  I  thought  joy  of  myself, 
Or  think  justice  of  you  unless  I  thought  justice  of  myself, 
Or  think  reverence  of  God  unless  I  thought  reverence  of 

myself, 
For  out  of  the  making  of  myself  proceeds  the  making  of 

worlds: 
Therefore  I  say  that  I  could  not  afford  to  think  poorly  of 

myself  I  who  think  so  richly  of  the  rest — 
Therefore  I  say  that  I  have  taken  God  to  be  my  brother  not 

my  king — 
Therefore  I  say  that  this  comrade  universe   is   for  all,  God 

and  all  men  and  women  and  children  equals  of  God, 

share  and  share  alike. 

I  who  can  say  such  sure  things  of  the  flower  seeing  only  the 

seed, 
Or  of  the  unfathomable  ocean  seeing  only  the  tides  and  the 

water, 

Or  of  the  vast  mountains  seeing  only  the  pines  and  the  rocks, 
Or  of  the  sunrises  and  sunsets  seeing  only  the  colors  and  the 

cloud  forms, 
Or  of  the  tomorrows  of  time  seeing  only  the  yesterdays  and 

the  todays: 


OPTIMOS  79 

I  who  can  say  such  sure  things  of  all  else  could  have  no  rea 
son  for  impeaching  my  own  birthhold — 

I,  too,  may  make  daring  uncompromising  claims  for  my 
sacred  foundations, 

Not  being  ready  to  stand  aside  for  appearances  doubting  my 
right  to  my  size. 

I  acknowledge  you,  you  powers  over  my  head,  you  powers 
under  my  feet, 

But  though  I  cheerfully  countersign  your  warrant  with  my 
full  name, 

I  reserve  the  supreme  endorsements — for  my  body  and  my 
body's  soul  reserve  them  without  forfeit. 

I  dont  think  I  could  say  how  great  I  think  everything  is — 

How  great  the  little  is,  how  great  the  forgotten  is: 

And  the  bad,  which  hurts  and  maims  me — how  great  cor 
ruption  is, 

And  obscurity  and  death — how  great  with  eminence  not 
being  known  is  and  how  great  with  life  the  farewells 
of  life  are, 

And  the  delays  and  refusals — how  great  postponements  and 
negations  must  be, 

And  the  barbarisms  and  crimes — how  great  with  reconcilia 
tion  and  restitution  they  appear, 

And,  no  matter  what,  anything  going  wrong — how  great 
with  going  right  it  inevitably  becomes: 

I  let  myself  go,  I  regard  myself  with  an  indulgent  eye,  I  am 
at  ease  about  my  greatness — 

I  dont  think  I  could  explain  how  competent  I  know  myself 
to  be  and  every  one  is  in  the  roster  of  the  constella 
tions. 

I  reckon  liberally  upon  what  my  eyes  see  and  my  ears  hear: 
I  do  not  cut  my  measure  short  or  pare  my  fate  too  thin: 


80  OPTIMOS 

Even  the  universe — is  it  big  enough  to  hold  me? 
The  stock  universe  does  not  fit  me — the  cut  and  dried  uni 
verse  is  out  of  shape. 
Take  away  your  ready  made  stars,  your  ready  made  deities 

and  people: 
I  must  have  a  universe  made  to  order  so  it  is  roomy  enough 

and  noble  enough  to  be  comfortable  in. 
I  have  no  gospel  to  preach:   I  just  walk  around  and  let  my 

spirit  loose  in  the  crowd: 
I  who  can  conceive  of  such  limitless  energy  for  the  universe 

can  conceive   of  just  as   limitless  potentiality  for  my 

own  body  and  my  own  dreams: 
I  who  can  admit  no  pause   in   the  universe  can  admit  no 

pause  in  myself: 
Why  shouldn't  I  be  stuck  on  myself? 


THERE   DONT   SEEM  TO    BE   ANY    REASON 
FOR   IT 

There  dont  seem  to  be  any  reason  for  it: 

My  joy  comes  and  goes  and  comes  again  somehow  without 
reason: 

My  love  possesses  me  in  perpetual  flood — I  dont  know  why: 
it  sweeps  me  out  into  its  stream: 

And  I  go  on  whatever  reverse  may  come  to  me — go  on  in 
gladness, 

And  though  I  might  sit  down  and  Cry  and  give  in,  some 
thing  not  easy  to  account  for  nerves  me  against  sur 
render. 

The  man  of  science  says  I  could  tell  how  it  comes  if  it  was 
true, 

And  the  lawyers  say  so  too,  and  the  professors,  and  the  ex 
perts: 


OPTIMOS  81 

And  even  the  eager  everyday  man  who  cannot  see  for  him 
self  wants  my  reasons, 

And  he  too  goes  away  disappointed  when  I  tell  him  I  make 
no  demonstrations. 

The  beautiful  mystery  seems  too  sacred  to  be  bandied  about 
in  definitions: 

It  is  deeper  than  the  deepest  seas — there  is  no  bottom  to  it: 

It  is  higher  than  the  highest  hills — there  is  no  top  to  its 
ascent: 

It  is  wider  than  all  the  diameters  of  all  the  worlds — it  never 
finishes  its  journey  across: 

It  is  more  imposing  than  the  passwords  of  martyrs  and 
prophets — it  acknowledges  the  people  in  their  heroic 
obscurity. 

Why  should  I  make  light  of  it  simply  because  I  cannot  set 
it  forth  in  a  statement? 

It  never  turns  against  me — whatever  I  do  never  turns  against 
me: 

No  matter  how  uncertain  my  flame  it  is  steadfast  and  inev 
itable, 

No  matter  how  far  wrong  I  may  go  it  never  fails  to  go 
right, 

No  matter  how  I  fall,  and  for  whatever  wilful  cause,  it  still 
stands  erect. 

I  do  not  say  I  deserve  it  and  it  never  asks  whether  I  deserve 
anything — 

Though  I  sin  the  worst  sin  it  keeps  within  reach  the  best 
blessing, 

Though  I  am  treacherous  to  the  day  it  keeps  the  years  for 
ever  loyal. 

Maybe  if  you  did  not  make  so  much  fuss  about  understand 
ing  me  you  would  feel  me  better, 

And  maybe  feeling  me  better  is  better  than  understanding 
me  only  half  enough, 


82  OPTIMOS 

And  maybe  the  inspirations  that  take  us  farthest  say  the 
least  about  themselves, 

And  maybe  the  desires  that  are  so  delicate  they  would  break 
if  trusted  to  the  gentlest  phrases — 

Maybe  these  desires  are  the  staunchest  bridgeways  between 
the  heights. 

I  do  not  say  I  know  and  I  do  not  say  you  should  acknowl 
edge  me, 

I  do  not  say  I  have  a  message  or  a  gospel  for  you  to  take 
and  swear  to — 

I  do  not  so  much  say  things  for  you  as  for  myself, 

And  what  I  say  for  myself  is  only  that  I  live  in  contact  with 
realities, 

And  what  I  say  for  myself  is  that  no  alien  witness  can  dis 
prove  me. 

I  am  bound  hand  and  foot  to  the  evangel  of  my  sufficing  joy, 
I   am   freed  body  and  soul   to  the   impetus   of  the  celestial 

ministrant. 
Think  what  it  means:    to  be  ready  with  generosity  for  any 

greed, 

Think  what  it  means:   to  be  ready  with  joy  for  any  sorrow, 
Think  what  it  means:  to  be  ready  with  life  for  any  death. 
Though  reasons  and  figures  fall  short  the  account  of  revela 
tion  never  falls  short, 
And  though  no  logic  lights  the  way  my  unceasing  rapture 

lights  the  way, 
And  though  the  seed  cannot  tell  how  it  passes  on  it  arrives 

in  the  flower, 
And   though   the  song   fears   the   tongue    of    contention    it 

hurries  to  the  lips  of  the  singer. 
So  I  keep  to  the  road  not  wondering  when  I  am  mocked  by 

the  schoolmen: 
I   can  only  say  that  I  do  not  know — that  I  only  live, 


OPTIMOS  83 

I  can  only  say  that  I  have  no  diploma  but  that  I  have  much 
love, 

I  can  only  say  that  I  am  new  heart  to  the  forsaken,  who  do 
not  ask  my  name, 

I  can  only  say  that  I  advance  with  the  pioneers  and  send 
back  glowing  reports  to  my  comrades  whose  start  has 
been  delayed — 

I  can  only  throw  out  these  reminders,  tenderly,  not  attempt 
ing  to  argue, 

Admitting  that  there  dont  seem  to  be  any  reason  for  it. 


I'LL   NOT   SAY   HARD    THINGS   ABOUT  YOU, 
DEAR  WORLD 

I'll  not  say  hard  things  about  you,  dear  world: 

In  my  sorest  resentments,  in  my  saddest  reverses,  I'll  not 

say  hard  things: 

I'll  allow  you  your  incompleteness  and  give  you  time  to  be 
come  complete, 
And  allow  for  the  imperfections  of  men  and  give  them  time 

to  become  perfect, 
And  refuse  to  make  too  much  of  your  cruel  contradictions 

that  I  may  not  understand, 
And  criticise  you  and  rant  about  you  and  scorn  you  and 

swear  I  am  through  with  you: 
All  that  and  more,  dear  world:   I'll  spare  nothing,  I'll  hold 

back  no  rebuke: 
And  when  you  are  accused  I'll  not  defend  you:  I'll  let  you 

suffer  and  listen  to  your  sentence: 
For  I   dont   hold  a  brief  for  you,  dear  world:   I'm  not  in 

your  pay — I  dont  have  to  coddle  you: 
I  see  too  well  how  beautiful  you  are  and  how  ugly  you  are — 

how  fair  you  are  and  how  foul  you  are: 


84  OPTIMOS 

And  so  I  let  the  worst  be  said  about  you  and  even  acknowl 
edge  the  worst, 

And  I  stand  aside  while  others  have  the  floor  to  tell  you  to 
your  face  what  you  are  like, 

Waiting  till  the  last  word  of  contempt  or  doubt  is  spoken 
before  I  break  in, 

And  only  then  breaking  in  on  my  disappointed  and  sorrow 
ful  brothers  in  a  quiet  mild  way, 

Not  so  much  wishing  to  pat  you  on  the  back  or  crown  you 
as  just  to  move  near  to  you, 

Not  so  much  ready  to  greet  you  with  phrases  in  loud  ac 
clamation  as  just  to  move  closer,  closer  to  you  and  be 
silent. 

The  people  are  gathered  together:  I  hear  their  quarreling 
voices:  they  are  asking  questions  of  each  other: 

The  people:  your  people,  dear  world:  my  people:  asking 
questions  of  each  other  and  of  you: 

The  profaned  maltreated  people,  the  robbed  subjugated  peo 
ple,  thronging  to  you,  defying  you: 

With  guns  in  their  hands,  with  daybreak  in  their  brains, 
with  hating  loving  faith  in  their  hearts,  challenging 
your  replies: 

All  of  them — the  few  half  overfed,  the  many  half  starving 
— pushing  pressing  to  your  door  demanding  an  audi 
ence: 

Unwilling  longer  to  be  sent  away  ungratified,  resolving  now 
to  get  in  if  they  have  to  break  in, 

Wanting  to  know  why  things  are  so  and  so,  why  your 
storms  mow  them  down  like  a  harvest, 

Wanting  to  know  why  you  drive  their  girls  to  the  streets 
and  their  boys  to  the  scaffold, 

Wanting  to  know  why  you  draw  lines  across  the  earth  for 
two  sorts  of  people  when  they  are  all  your  children: 


OPTIMOS  85 

Wanting  to  know:  aroused  and  threatening:  thinking  it  no 
more  than  right  for  you  to  be  honest  with  them: 

With  them,  the  people,  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  patiently 
strong,  coming  to  you  with  their  chains  on: 

With  them,  the  people,  lifting  up  their  manacles  and  ask 
ing  you  what  they  mean: 

Thunderously  noisy,  ominously  silent,  talking  out,  saying 
nothing,  looking  expectantly  at  you: 

I  for  myself,  hearing  it  all,  taking  a  part  in  it,  too:  raising 
my  weaponless  menacing  hands  with  theirs: 

To  you,  dear  world,  giving  you  no  rest,  never  stilled,  mul- 
titudinously  surging  in  upon  you  the  same  as  the  sea: 

I  hear  and  see  it  all,  dear  world:  I'm  a  part  of  it  all,  dear 
world:  and  so  I  set  it  down  blackly  without  a  bit  of 
the  shadow  cut  off. 

Yes,  I  see  and  hear  it  all,  dear  world,  and  am  convinced  by 

it  all, 
But  I  dont  come  to  conclusions:  I  stand  to  one  side  while 

the  crowd  are  groping  for  their  conclusions: 
And  strange  visions  visit  me:  come  to  me  not  from  on  high 

or  by  a  mysterious  revelation: 
Come  to  me  out  of  the  lives  and  sufferings  of  those  who 

complain,  out  of  the  nobility  of  those  who  are  wronged: 
Come  to  me  out  of  the  common  fund  of  everyday  behavior 

bringing  me  riches  and  comfort: 
Come  to  me  deliriously  binding  out  of  the  loves  of  men 

and  women  lawful  or  free: 
Come  to  me  thrilling  my  body,  come  to  me  uplifting  my 

soul, 
Saying  strangely  that  for  you  which   you  could   not  say  for 

yourself, 
Clearing  up  contradictions,  mercifully  tempering  edges  that 

.are  cruel,  in  your  sufficing  name: 


86  OPTIMOS 

You,  dear  world,  who  can  say  nothing  in  defense — who  can 

only  be  arraigned  and  convicted: 
You,  dear  world,  who  are  helpless  till  we  help  you,  who 

can  only  sing  in  our  songs: 
You,  dear  world,  who  are  not  against  us  as  long  as  we  are 

for  you:  no — not  as  long  as  we  are  for  you: 
You,  dear  world,  who,  for  all  your  faults,  are  my  one  chum 

of  all  the  stars  in  space: 
You,  dear  world,  who  gather  me  to  your  nearby  flesh,  who 

draw  me  to  your  farther  spirit: 
Yes,  I  see  and  hear  it  all,  dear  world,  and  admit  it  all,  yet 

nestle  closer  closer  to  you  and  am  silent. 

I  sympathize  with  you,  dear  world:   I  know  what  it  must 

mean  to  you:  yes,  I  know: 
To  have  to  be  so  dead  still  in  confession  when  you  are  so 

stirringly  alive  with  proofs, 
To  have  to  take  all  that   is  said  to  you  with  composure 

without  retort  or  making  a  sign, 
To  have  to  seem  to  be  guilty  and  cruel  when  you  know 

yourself  to  be  innocent  and  kind, 
To  have  your  children  abandon  you  and  be  unable  to  open 

your  mouth: 
Oh!   I  know  the  mad  horror  of  that:   I  go  through  it  with 

you,  dear  world: 
We  go  through  it  understanding  each  other,  dear  world,  you 

with  me,  in  the  dark  hours,  together: 
And  though  you  can  say  nothing  I  can  say  much  and  will 

raise  my  protesting  cry: 
Standing  speaking  for  you  in  my  own  name:   till  everybody 

may  hear  and  see,  standing  speaking  for  you:   defiantly 

contending  for  you: 

Where  you  give  yourself  no  meanings  I  giving  you  mean 
ings  proudly  enough, 


OPTIMOS  87 

Where  others  give  you  false  meanings  I  giving  you  true 
meanings  in  return: 

You  can  rely  upon  me,  dear  world:  I  giving  you  meanings 
large  enough  and  loving  enough  to  account  for  all  dis 
aster: 

I'll  not  say  hard  things  about  you,  dear  world. 


WHEN   I   CROSS   THE   RIVER   IN   THE 
MORNING 

When  I  cross  the  river  in  the  morning, 

Seeing  the  tugs  and  steamships  go  up  and  down, 

Watching  the  schooners  loaded  with  coal  starting  for  a  voy 
age  north  or  south  along  the  coast, 

With  all  the  little  boats  darting  pushing  everywhere  to  and 
fro, 

I  feel  happier  about  myself,  taking  counsel  of  the  life  I  ob 
serve, 

Convinced  somehow  that  just  as  all  the  objects  I  look  at 
are  bent  upon  some  errand  of  use  or  joy, 

Even  the  shifting  clouds  overhead  upon  some  errand,  even 
the  water  itself  upon  some  errand, 

So  too  am  I  even  if  I  cannot  explain  it  to  myself  bent  upon 
some  errand  of  eternal  noble  purport. 

Do  you  think  the  ships  go  out  through  the  bay  to  the  sea 
and  that  is  the  last  of  it? 

Do  you  think  the  cargoes  aboard  the  ships  are  delivered  at 
some  port  and  that  is  the  last  of  it? 

Do  you  think  the  crews  who  man  the  ships  and  the  passen 
gers  go  to  some  other  place  and  that  is  the  last  of  it? 

Do  you  think  that  life  itself  seeds  and  harvests  the  earth  for 
a  season  and  disappears  and  that  is  the  last  of  it? 


88  OPTIMOS 

There  is  something  more:  I  am  not  able  to  make  too  much 
of  right  and  left  north  and  south, 

But  there  is  something  more  and  that  the  most  wonderful 
yet  remaining  still  to  come  to  all, 

Giving  the  final  meanings  and  the  justification  to  the  puz 
zles  of  days  and  nights, 

Making  of  one  issue  voyage  and  voyagers  and  ports  and  the 
endless  new  beginnings  of  souls. 

I  see  you  crying  bitter  tears,  my  darling,  but  I  do  not  think 

that  is  all  there  is  to  it: 
I  see  children  grow  pale  working  in  mills  and  mothers  there 

with  them  working  with  thin  fingers  and  dull  eyes, 
I  see  fathers  driven  like  cattle  to  their  trades  with  little  pay 

to  balance  the  wear  and  tear  of  hope, 

I  see  nations  conquer  nations  and  cruel  shame  put  on  peo 
ples  innocent  of  crime  or  aggression, 
I  see  the  farms  and  the  stores  and  the  factories  ravaged  by 

rents  and  interests  and  profits, 
I  see  those  who  loaf  rewarded  with  exhaustless  treasure  and 

those  who  labor  outraged,  reduced  to  the  last  cent: 
It  is  all  bad  to  look  at,  all  impossible  to  make  light  of,  my 

heart  revolts  and  challenges  its  destruction: 
Yet   I   know  that   is  not  all  there  is  to  it:    I  know  there  is 

more  to  come: 
The  story  is  not  concluded   in  the  shadow,  is  not  finished 

with  failure: 
There    is    more  to    it:    there  is  sunlight  to   it   on  a  little 

farther — believe  me: 
There  is  more  to  it:  there  is  success  to  it  on  a  little  farther 

— believe  me. 

The  tree  that  so  liberally  gave  us  fruit  is  dead  on  the 
ground, 


OPTIMOS  89 

The  leaves  that  rustled  for  us  in  musical  winds  are  powder 

to  the  dust  of  the  earth, 
The  house  that  sheltered  our  dear  mothers  and  fathers  and 

others  before  them  was  last  night  consumed  by  fire. 

No  one  says  that  is  the  end  of  it:   we  know  better:  we  feel 

what  we  do  not  see: 
The  door  may  open  and  shut  but  there  is  always  something 

both  sides  of  the  door: 
Is  there  less  entailed  with  you  darling  sisters  darling  brothers 

my  comrades? 
I  say  that  no  matter  whether  the  door  does  open  and  shut 

you  are  always  on  one  side  or  the  other  of  the  door. 
I  do  not  say  goodbye  to  the  ship  that  sails  away  down  the 

broad  river: 
The  officer  stands  on  the  bridge  and  waves  his  hand  to  me 

as  he  passes  and  I  wave  my  hand  back, 
But  that  does  not  mean  that   the  ship   is  sailing  without 

a  purpose  never  to  arrive  anywhere: 
For  even  the  ship  that  goes  down  in  the  stormy  seas  arrives 

somewhere  and  arrives  living  and  secure: 
Out  of  the  wreckage  rises  the  soul  of  the  ship  to  sail  freely 

its  deeper  ceaseless  seas: 
Not  less  surely  shall  your  soul  and  my  soul  rise  however 

submerged  to  be  piloted  from  port  to  port  of  joy. 

I  salute  the  ferryman  who  smiles  at  me  knowingly:  He 
seems  to  me  like  an  angel  there  ushering  me  to  a  pas 
sage  across  to  the  unseen: 

Then  the  boat  leaves  the  dock:  out  in  the  stream  we  join 
the  fleet  of  carriers: 

Going,  coming,  the  sun  overhead,  my  interior  resolution, 
the  swift  current:  nothing  in  all  the  scene  adrift. 

Dear  river,  you  flow  towards  God  whether  you  ebb  or  flood: 


90  OPTIMOS 

Dear  ships,  you  sail  towards  God  whether  you  set  forth  or 
return: 

And  you,  dear  souls,  you  who  are  sisters  I  love  and  brothers 
I  love, 

Do  you  do  less?  with  none  of  these  adrift  are  you  adrift? 
oh!  are  you  adrift? 

With  everything  else  sailing  towards  God  whichever  way 
they  sail  can  you  be  adrift? 

Take  me  by  the  hand:  I  will  not  falter  or  recall  my  reassur 
ing  words: 

We  too  hand  in  hand,  loving  and  seeing  justice  done  in  the 
market  place, 

We  too  sail  towards  God  and  could  not  in  whatever  rebel 
lion  change  our  course. 

I  behold  the  vision  of  souls  sailing  towards  God  with  the 
ships  sailing  and  the  tides  sailing, 

I  behold  even  the  sorrow  and  the  evil  sailing  towards  God 
with  the  joy  sailing  and  the  good  sailing, 

When  I  cross  the  river  in  the  morning. 


WHEN   I    GO    HOME   LATE   AT   NIGHT 

When  I  go  home  late  at  night, 

After  the  store  is  closed,  after  the  office  is  locked, 

Footsore,  soulsore,  with  treading  the  mill  of  the  market, 

Like  a  tired  steersman  letting  go  the  wheel  for  awhile,  re 
signing  the  ship  to  other  hands, 

The  triumphs  of  the  day  as  tasteless  to  me  as  the  defeats  of 
the  day, 

Getting  the  record  well  into  the  background  and  regarding 
it  there  with  equable  eyes, 

Then  I  feel  as  if  the  little  matters  and  the  big  matters  no 
longer  usurp  each  others'  places, 


OPTIMOS  91 

Then  I  feel  as  if  the  misunderstood  things  are  made  plain 
and  understood, 

Then  I  feel  as  if  my  money  no  longer  quarrels  with  my 
heart  and  comes  to  blows: 

A  great  calm  descends  upon  me:  a  strange  beautiful  convic 
tion  of  content: 

The  sad  questions  are  lost  in  the  glad  answer:  the  cruel 
journey  is  lost  in  the  kind  welcome: 

Then  all  my  brothers  and  sisters  wherever  they  are  on  the 
earth  take  their  equal  place  in  my  love. 

The  world  of  the  night — the  world  of  the  revellers  and  the 

strayers : 
The  world  of  the  night — the  nocturnal   freeground  of  the 

spirit: 
The  world  of  the  night — the  shadow,  the  veil:   behind  it 

the  lifedrift. 
Do  you  ever  beckon  this  faraway  world  through  your  own 

open  door? 

This  is  not  the  world  of  reputations  or  the  world  of  saints, 
This    is   not  the  world  of  the  orderly  or  the  world  of  the 

formal  good: 
This   is   the  world   of  the  homeless  and  the  world  of  the 

derelicts: 
This   is  my  world — the  world  where  my  outcast  comrades 

pay  penance  of  pain  for  my  desire, 
This  is  the  big  world  the  little  world  forgets — the  victim 

glory  my  victor  shame  unfolds: 
The  savior  world  of  corruption,  the  redemptist  world  of 

crime: 
This  is  the  world  soiled  and   illicit  upon  whose  cross  no 

aureole  falls — 
The  world  of  men  and  women  despised  dear  to  me  bevond 

the  dearest  forever. 


92  OPTIMOS 

I  go  my  pilgrim  way:  my  staff  is  the  surfeit  of  my  love: 
The  newsboy  sells  me  the  morning  paper  asking:   How  are 

you,  mister? 
The  policeman  at  the  corner  as  I  swing  into  view  lifts  his 

club  in  salute: 
I  catch  up  with  a  crowd  of  Dagoes  just  over,  their  packs  on 

their  backs:  one  of  them  nods  to  me: 
A  girl  fair  faced  comes  up  to  me  curious  to  know  if  I  dont 

want  to  go  with  her  and  have  a  good  time — 
(O   God!    how  bad  for  both  of  us,  equal  innocents,  that 

good  time  would  be!) 

I  stop  in  the  cafe:  the  waiter  sweetens  my  lunch  with  price 
less  superfluous  inquiries: 
The  conductor  on  the  trolley  tells  me  about  his  hard  luck 

taking  a  try  west  and  getting  nothing  to  do, 
The  motorman  whips  up  his  speed  a  bit  as  he  is  late  and  is 

anxious  for  me  to  make  my  boat: 
The  ticket  taker  at  the  ferry  says  to  me:  You'll  find  it  fine 

on  the  water  this  morning! 
The  deckhands  come  along  after  the  boat  is  started  and  sit 

next  me  perhaps  not  saying  a  word: 
So  it  goes:   the  dear  nothings,  the  dear  everythings,   these 

and  more  too,  treasured  and  inimitable: 
I  go  my  pilgrim  way:  my  staff  is  the  surfeit  of  my  love. 

All  these  things  are  commonplace,  but  they  are  life: 
They  are  not  unusual,  not  dressed  up,  but  they  are  life: 
They  are  diversions  in  the  general  current,  pools  in  the  field, 

but  they  are  life: 
I  would  not  like  to  miss  any  one  of  them,  not  the  least  of 

them: 
I   would  rather  miss  the  moonshine  and  the  stars  and  the 

flowing  river, 
J  would  rather  miss  anything  else  than  miss  one  of  them: 


OPTIMOS  93 

They  are  more  necessary  to  me  than  suns  that  give  life, 

For  they  go  farther,  they  give  supremer  life,  they  give  the 
life  of  lives: 

For  it  is  not  the  flame  that  lights  the  little  fires,  it  is  the 
little  fires  that  make  the  flame: 

Innocent  as  they  seem  of  grandeur  they  are  the  passports  of 
paradise: 

The  darling  common  greetings  of  the  friendly  world  as  I 
pass  along, 

The  convincing  final  customary  hellos  and  how  do  you  dos 
as  our  paths  for  a  moment  meet: 

The  everyday  man  coming  so  close  O  so  close  to  my  every 
day  self  in  that  flash  of  recognition. 

When  I  step   out   into   the   familiar  streets  in  the  dead   of 

night  with  my  live  faith, 
Greeting  my  sisters  and  brothers  wilful  unsubdued  as  they 

greet  me  with  rudimentary  signals: 
Maybe  a  waif  boy  or  girl  touching  my  hand  just  for  love's 

first  and  last  sweet  sake: 
Then  I  know  which  of  the  world's  goods  I  rate  highest  and 

would  do  the  most  for: 
Then    I    know  I  would   do  the  most  for  the  ungarnished 

populace  of  the  pavements, 
As  that  mysterious  reservoir  of  benefaction  does  the  most 

for  me — 
With  no  glistening  dazzling  array  of  motives  does  the  most 

for  me: 
Taking  off  my  sickened  soul  the  unbearable  burden  of  its 

superiorities, 

After  all  alienating  ambitions  leading  me  home  to  myself: 
This  bath   of  man  washing   me  clean:    this  flush  of  love 

transfiguring  the  crowd: 
When  I  go  home  late  at  night. 


94  OPTIMOS 

POWER   IS   NOT    RULE 

Power  is  not  rule — it  is  refusal  of  rule, 
Power  is  not  leadership — power  is  lost  in  the  crowd: 
Have  you  gone  seed  gathering  among  humble  things? 
Content  to  be  out  of  sight,  happy  to  be  the  hidden  root? 
The  satisfied  hand  of  some  good  deed  withdrawn  in  the 

darkness  ? 
Power  is  not  in  what  you  do  but  in  what  you  refrain  from 

doing: 

Power  does  not  subjugate,  it  invites: 
Power  is  only  irresistible  when   it   stands  pleading  before 

those  who  could  not  resent  it. 


JUST  TO   OWN  MY 
OWN  SOUL 


If  all  the  voices  of  men  called  out  warning  you  and  you  could  not  join 

your  voices  with  their  voices, 
If  all  the  faces  of  men  were  turned  one  way  and  you  met  them  face  to 

face  you  going  another, 
You  still  must  not  be  persuaded  to  capitulation,  you  will  remember 

that  the  road  runs  east  as  well  as  west. 


And  he  said  to  his  enemies: 

I  wait,  I  wait,  I  wait,  to  be  sure  that  your  severest  word  is  said 

So  that  I  may  withdraw  and  address  to  myself  severer  words. 


In  your  heart  are  barricades,  there  forever  are  prepared  dire  battles  for 
supremacy, 

The  most  desperate  battles  are  fought  without  blood,  unseen,  in 
awful  silence, 

And  well  do  you  know  that  every  man  is  the  hero  of  a  thousand  bar 
ricades — 

Not  less  Fox  than  Hugo,  not  less  he  who,  righting,  fell  degraded  by 
some  sin,  than  he  who,  triumphant,  was  immortal  in  his  trumpeted 
virtue — 

Lincoln  and  his  assassin,  Burr  and  Andre,  and  in  every  man  all  his 
faculties,  not  one  inopportune. 


JUST  TO   OWN   MY   OWN  SOUL 

Just  to  own  my  own  soul, 

To  come  into  the  day  earlier  than  the  sun, 

To  accept  the  night  before  its  first  shadow  has  arrived, 

To  start  the  make  of  worlds  in  my  own  nebula, 

To  practice  self  denial  in  the  hot  fire  of  indulgence, 

To  stop  the  clock  and  to  time  myself  to  the  hours  of  the 
heart, 

To  find  the  north  of  the  soul  and  the  south  of  the  soul 
compassed  forever  by  a  dauntless  will, 

To  gather  myself  together  out  of  the  crowd, 

To  gather  the  crowd  fondly  within  my  heart, 

To  be  impatient  of  lovers  in  order  to  love: 

These  are  the  laws  and  the  provisions  of  the  voyage  of  the 
soul, 

These  are  the  abundant  winds  that  drive  my  soul  craft  into 
the  lone  seas, 

These  are  the  cloudbreaks  and  the  waveshallops  of  the  pas 
sage  of  the  soul. 

Think  of  the  ages  I  have  traveled  just  to  be  what  I  am,  ana 
now  that  I  am  what  I  am  you  ask  me  to  become  some 
thing  else. 

Think  of  the  roots  of  me,  where  they  go, 

Think  of  my  trial  years  of  disaster  before  I  could  stand  on 
my  feet, 

Think  of  the  animal  forms  and  the  vegetable  forms  I  had  to 
cast  aside  before  I  shook  hands  with  you  today  with 
my  hat  on  my  head, 

Think  of  what  I  have  given  up  to  get  here  and  why  being 
here  at  all  is  a  mysterious  result  and  is  to  lead  to  still 
other  results: 

97 


98  OPTIMOS 

Now  you  would  sweep  me  aside,  now  you  would  make  me 

of  no  account. 
You  would  take  me  into  your  parlors  and   incline  my  soul 

to  the  declension  of  your  faith, 
You  would  sing  me  a  tyrant  song  and  cut  my  music  down 

to  the  dead  beat  of  your  ratatoo, 
You  would  servant  me  and  master  me  to  the  slave  processes 

of  the  earth, 
You  would  leave  me  nothing  of  myself  but  a  remnant,  a 

reminiscence,  a  goodbye! 

I  cannot  stand  it,  I  must  be  alone:  desert  me,  hate  me! 
By  God!      I  am  never  safe  while  you  love  me: 
Get  off  my  road!      Do  you  not  see  that  you  choke  the  room 

and  I  want  fresh  air? 
Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  bound  ankle  and  wrist  by  love 

and  must  break  free? 
I  surrender  you  everything — take  it — go:  give  me  the  great 

plain  to  myself: 
Take  your  universe,  take  your  arts,  take  your  wardrobes  and 

your  showdrags: 

I  do  not  ask  you  to  leave  me  a  scrap — leave  only  me. 
I   have   fed  the   long  harvests  of  the  ages  for   this,  for  the 

fruit  of  my  soul's  tree. 

I  went  to  man  with  my  love  before  my  love  was  ready, 
I  withdraw  from  man  until  my  love  has  become  so  sure  of 

itself  that  it  dares  to  go  with  other  loves. 
I  do  not  part  with  you  in  anger,  dear  kinsmen: 
I  am  not  a  safe  companion,  you  are  not  safe  for  me. 
I  am  leagues  of  ages  aloof,  I  am  ten  thousand  stars  away, 

yet  I  cry  for  room,  I  push  you  still  farther  into  space, 
Wild  to  love  you,  yet  suffocated  with  your  love, 
Gladly  laying  at  your  door  every  right  and  every  property  I 

possess, 
Just  to  own  my  own  soul. 


OPTIMOS  99 

LET   ME    BE   SELF   APPROVED 

Let  me  be  self  approved. 

Once  I  looked  for  God's  approval  and  served  God  with  ab 
ject  favor. 

Now  I  look  only  for  self  approval,  for  I  have  learned  that 
God's  approval  would  noway  help  me  if  I  did  not  ap 
prove  myself. 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  men  and  bowed  to  the  mean 
ness  of  men  to  get  it, 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  my  estate  and  accepted  its  in 
comes  to  get  it, 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  the  suit  I  wore  and  of  the  food 
I  ate  and  dressed  myself  fool  and  ate  myself  hog  to 
get  it, 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  the  scholars  and  rehearsed  in 
dead  cultures  to  get  it, 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  the  soldiers  and  murdered  my 
brothers  to  get  it, 

I  wished  for  the  approval  of  the  statesmen  and  lied  in  the 
word  of  the  law  to  get  it: 

And  so  I  left  myself  behind  and  traveled  everywhere  asking 
for  my  discarded  consort, 

And  that  is  why  men  gazed  at  me  and  asked  me  what  I  was 
looking  for  and  I  never  could  tell  them — 

And  that  is  why  I  put  the  universe  into  a  scale  and  found  it 
short  weight  and  charged  up  a  bill  against  it. 

All  round  me  were  men  and  women  restless  with  resent 
ments  toward  life, 

Men  and  women  who  had  put  life  away  in  their  cashboxes 
and  sat  before  a  dead  resolution  mourning  their  lost 
children, 

Men  and  women  who  had  deferred  themselves  to  something 
not  themselves  and  gone  short  in  the  investment, 


100  OPTIMOS 

Men  and  women  who  believed  they  could  put   themselves 

in  pawn  and  redeem  themselves  at  will, 
The  dear  men  and  women  nearest  to  me  and  farthest  from  me 

who  took  their  heritage  at  the  full  and  left  it  empty. 

The  root  of  the  tree  was  self  approved,  then  came  the  tree, 
The  dream  of  the  picture  was  self  approved,  then  came  the 

picture, 
The  forenotes  of  the   song  were   self  approved,  then   came 

the  song, 
The    instinct    of    the  good    deed  was    self  approved,  then 

came  the  good  deed. 
The   regret  of  the  robber  was  self  approved,  then  he  gave 

back  the  goods, 
The  repentance  of  the  murderer  was  self  approved,  then  his 

soul  became  guiltless, 
The  awakening  of  the  successful   man  was  self  approved, 

then  he  refused  success. 

Until  the  soul  is  self  approved  what  counts  the  approval  of 

the  world? 
Until  the  skill  of  the  arm  is  self  approved  what  becomes  of 

the  skill  of  the  arm? 
Until  the  honor  of  the  meal  is  self  approved  what  becomes 

of  the  substance  of  the  meal? 
Until  the  love  of  the  lover  is  self  approved  what  becomes 

of  the  seed  of  his  love? 

Let  me  not  be  self  deceived: 

Let  me  not  put  hands  in  trespass  upon  my  own  body, 
Let  me  not  put  thought  in  trespass  upon  my  own  mind, 
Let  me  not  put  love  in  trespass  upon  my  own  heart, 
Let  me  be  unclean  but  let  me  not  prove  to  myself  that  I  am 
clean, 


OPTIMOS  101 

Let  me  turn  brute  among  men  but  let  me  not  convince  my 
self  that  I  am  gentle, 

Let  me  dishonor  woman  but  let  me  not  recognize  my  dis 
honor  as  love, 

Let  me  stray  in  and  out  of  myself  always  freely  acknowl 
edged  to  the  last  atom  of  my  disgrace — 

Myself  with  myself,  wandered  and  fallen,  wanton  and  cruel, 

Giants  forever  face  to  face  in  the  trial  hours  of  the  soul. 

Do   you   think  I  would  ever  do  man  an  evil  turn  if  I  was 

honest  with  myself? 

I  am  never  dishonest  with  other  men — I  could  not  be: 
I  am   only  dishonest   with    myself — I   am   a  traitor   turned 

loose  underground. 

I  am  not  errant  because  my  greed  has  its  victims: 
I  am  errant  because   my  victims  have  a  victim  who  is  my 
self. 

There  is  no  gap  between  men — there  is  only  a  gap  in  the 

man: 
There  is  no  gap  between  the  rich  and  the  poor — there  is 

only  the  blank  space  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  in 

my  heart: 
There  is  no  conqueror  and  no  conquered — there  is  only  an 

abyss  in  me  between  my  two  souls  weeping  for  union: 
There  is  no  master  and  no  slave — there  is  only  the  mastery 

and  slavery  of  my  two  natures  within  me  reaching  over 

a  dreadful  hiatus  of  desire. 

Let  me  be  self  approved: 

Once   I   prayed   to   God   for  myself  and  went  hungry  and 

thirsty  with  a  full  meal: 
Now  I  pray  to  myself  for  God  and  though  my  lips  receive 

neither  food  nor  drink  I  am  fed  on  richest  returns. 


102  OPTIMOS 

I    PRAY   TO    MY   SOUL 

I  pray  to  my  soul. 

I  lock  out  the  priest,  I  prohibit  God,  I  forget  how  to  read 

the  books, 
I   refuse  all  presences  but  that  presence  which    issues   in 

my  self. 
My  self  alone  in  prayer  to  my  self  alone. 

I  pray  to  my  soul. 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from  all  narrowness  of  self, 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from  all  breadth  of  self, 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from  the  pertinence  of  my  body, 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from  the  invisibility  of  my  soul, 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from   that  which  saves  and  that  which 

damns, 

I  pray  to  be  saved  from  light  and  from  darkness, 
I  pray  for  release  from  my  talents  and  from  my  idiocies — 

from  what  I  am  proud  of  and  what  I  am  ashamed  of, 
I  pray  for  release  from  that  which  separates  and  that  which 

binds, 
I  pray  for  prayer  alone  and  self  alone  ever  and  ever. 

I  pray  to  my  soul. 

I  pray  for  defeats,  I  pray  for  dishonor, 

I  crave  to  share  with  everybody  the  worst  and  best  that 

comes. 

I  have  adjourned  all  christs  and  scriptures, 
I  have  adjourned  all  saviors  and  synods, 
I  have  adjourned  the  moralists  and  the  curists, 
I  have  paid  the  debts  of  heaven  with  the  debts  of  hell,  and 

hell's  debts  with  heaven's,  and  cancelled  heaven  and 

hell, 
I  have  opened  myself  to  but  one  soul — my  own, 


OPTIMOS  103 

I  have  opened  myself  to  but  one  commandment — my  soul's 
dear  word. 

I  pray  to  my  soul. 

All  injustice  the  earth  owns  to  is  the  work  of  man  outside 

himself 
When  man  works  inside  himself  he  will  achieve  the  last 

charity: 

Then  superior  and  inferior  will  be  dismissed, 
Then  possession  and  poverty  will  be  dismissed, 
Then  nothing  will  be  left  but  God,  nothing  but  my  divine 

unit  and  yours, 
The  self  raised  high  to  self  devoutly  lifted  in  prayer. 


THERE   IS   NOT   ENOUGH 

There  is  not  enough  bad  in  the  universe  to  damn  any  man, 
There  is  not  enough  good  in  the  universe  to  save  any  man: 
Man  is  not  to  be  saved  or  damned — he  is  to  be  fulfilled. 
I  do  not  go  outdoors  and  ask  favors  of  the  gods:    I  stay 

where  I  am:  the  gods  come  to  me: 
There  is  rain  enough  in  my  heart  to  water  the  face  of  the 

earth, 
There  is  sun  enough  in  my  brain  to  warm  the  clustering 

and  hungry  stars. 
We  have  saved  men  and  damned  men  until  God  has  tired 

of  the  miserable  trade: 
When  the  account  was  made  up,  after  all  the  saving  and 

damning,  there  were  nothing  but  ciphers  either  way. 
What  could  save  the  oppressed  but  justice  and  what  could 

save  the  oppressor  but  that  same  justice? 
God  could  no  more  give  salvation  than  withhold  it:  God  is 

salvation: 


104  OPTIMOS 

When  God  ceases  to  be  salvation  God  is  no  longer  God. 
We  rear  temples  to  save  men:  hereafter  we  will  build  them 

to  save  God: 
We  steal  fortunes  to  save  our  estate:   we  will  give  them  up 

to  save  ourselves. 
The  miner  starves  for  bread  and  the  master  of  the  miner 

starves  for  bread: 

Until  both  eat  of  the  same  loaf  neither  can  possess. 
As  if  there  was  salvation  for  anyone  while  there  was  not 

salvation  for  all, 

As  if  there  was  riches  for  one  until  there  was  riches  for  all. 
The  nearer  you  bring  men   to  each  other  the  nearer  you 

have  brought  God  to  man: 
What  God  can  do  for  you  is  of  least  importance:  what  you 

can  do  for  God  is  everything: 
What  love  can  do  for  you  is  as  nothing  but  what  you  can  do 

for  love  fulfils  the  law. 
How  little  is  God  while  God  simply  busies  himself  making 

planets  out  of  the  cooling  gases! 
How  great  is  God  while  God  is  watching  an  atom  turn  to 

love! 
Did  we  believe  that  God  was  coming  from  somewhere  to 

save  man's  soul? 
God  has  always  been  here  saving  God's  self. 


MY   HEAVEN   IS   FULL   OF  WORDS   BUT    I 
DESIRE    LOVE 

My  heaven  is  full  of  words  but  I  desire  love, 

My  heaven  is  crowded  to  the  doors  with  good  people  but  I 

hunger  for  sinners, 
My  heaven    is    dazed  with   suns — everywhere   suns — but   I 

crave  for  the  shadows, 


OPTIMOS  105 

My  heaven   is  the  confirmation   of  the  prophets  but  I  am 

wayward  and  the  prophets  bore  me, 
My  heaven  is   the  home   of  the  saints  but   I  shrink   from 

the  saints  and  disdain  their  prerogatives. 
I  had  done  all  I  could  to  enrich  life  and  point  it  the  way  of 

my  heaven: 

Finally  I  arrived — the  last  doubting  step  was  taken. 
Having  achieved  heaven  heaven  was  not  heaven — it  tried 

the  patience  of  my  spirit. 
Heaven  was  great  reward — but  reward  was    discounted  in 

its  own  mathematics. 
Heaven  was  great  joy — but  what  use  had  I  for  joy  until  all 

others  were  absolved? 
Heaven    was   peace — but   I   did   not  want  peace:    peace  is 

death. 
Heaven  was  the  unattainable  attained — but  I  did  not  wish 

to  close  my  account  with  desire. 
Round  me  stood  the  triumphing  masters:  Yes,  I  said,  you 

have  kept  faith! 
Round  me  were  choristers — the  poets  and  orators  and  the 

great  preachers  of  an  abolished  earth. 
But  I  was  unhappy — I  stood  there  in  the  vast  concourse  and 

wept: 
Wept  not  for  joy  but  grief:   wept  not  for  having  succeeded 

but  because  I  had  not  failed — 
I,  heaven's  own,  having  won  heaven,  consumed  with  regret 

over  the  lost  paradise  of  my  imperfections! 

And  so  somehow  there  was  a  power  reached  forth  from 
infinity  into  the  midst  of  the  orbs, 

And  the  heavens  were  parted  by  clouds  and  loud  noises  pre 
vailed  and  flames  played  forth  their  perturbant  horror, 

And  out  from  the  midst  of  the  saved  I  was  cast  as  one  not 
holy  enough  to  endure  their  beauty, 


106  OPTIMOS 

I,  back  to  martyrdom  and  man,  consigned  again  to  earth's 
promiscuous  dust. 

Now  I  knew  how  to  love, 

Now  I  knew  where  to  follow  grief  and  where  to  root  my 

dreams, 
Now  I  entered  as  never  before  into  the  waywardnesses  of 

simple  men, 
Now  I  found  unsuspected  paths  leading  off  from  my  elect 

raptures  to  the  general  joy, 

Now  I  accepted  perils  I  had  once  shirked  to  the  unsuspect 
ing, 
Now  I  paced  easily  with  the  average  pulse,  reckoning  my 

gains  by  the  successes  of  others, 
Now  I  passed  into  shadows  without  misgiving  and  came 

back    from    expeditions  heartrich   with   the   spoil   of 

empty  hands, 
Now  I  lifted  my  claims  only  to  the  level  of  the  poorest  men 

and  refused  to  go  a  foot  higher, 
Now  I  saw  that  all  paradise  was  rehearsed  in  the  innocent 

acts  of  every  day, 
Now  I  was  one  with  the  all  of  failure  and  one  with  the  all 

of  success, 
And  now  I  looked  up  to  the  heaven  rejected  and  gratefully 

clung  to  my  artless  tasks. 

My  heaven  is  in  the  silences:  it  is  barren  of  pettifogging 
words, 

My  heaven  is  peopled  with  the  creatures  of  immolating  pas 
sions, 

My  heaven  contains  neither  saved  nor  damned — my  heaven 
contains  only  love, 

My  heaven  is  not  given  to  distinction — it  flows  out  fulltide 
to  the  obscure  and  the  useless, 


OPTIMOS  107 

My  heaven  is  simply  you  when  you  love  me  and  I  when  I 
love  you, 

My  heaven  is  the  promise  seized  and  kept  at  hand,  the  par 
tial  favor  yielded  to  the  whole, 

Heaven's  completeness  verified  in  the  arrival  of  the  last 
derelict, 

Heaven's  earth  and  heaven's  heaven  one  in  an  impartial 
destiny, 

The  result  withheld  from  none  and  not  postponed. 


SOMEWHERE  A  FACT   STANDS   IN  ITS   PLACE 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 

It  does  not  stand  in  the  place  of  some  other  fact, 

It  does  not  dispute  any  place  with  any  other  fact, 

It  does  not  spell  its  name  in  the  biggest  letters  or  call  it  out 

loudest, 

It  just  stays  where  it  belongs,  it  just  obeys  its  law, 
It,  the  fact,  the  darling  daring  fact,  there  in  its  place. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 

The  nations  send  their  fleets  out  against  it, 

The  religions  send  their  priests  out  against  it, 

The  money  makers  send  their  pirates  out  against  it, 

But  after  they  have  all  gone  and  come  home, 

After  they  have  brought  the  heaven  down  to  the  earth, 

After  they  have  lifted  the  earth  up  to  heaven, 

The  fact  is  still  in  its  place,  steadfastly  doing  its  part. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 
It  is  a  tree,  it  is  a  mouse,  it  is  anything  great  or  small, 
But  before  it  is  anything  great  or  small  it  is  a  fact: 
The  primal  fact  innocent  of  gladness  or  woe, 


108  OPTIMOS 

The  fact  sure  of  itself  and  its  place, 
The  fact  hoarding  no  coward  laurels, 
Always  the  fact,  the  fact  alone. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 
The  fact,  a  drop  of  blood,  holding  the  universe  at  bay, 
The  fact,  an  unspoken  love,  rejecting  the  world's  assault, 
The  fact,  a  purpose,  in  you  deposited,  braving  flattery  and 

the  mob, 

The  fact  in  its  place,  from  which  no  hatred  can  expel  it, 
Love  the  fact  in  its  place  attracting  all  power  to  itself, 
The  great  cause  the  fact  in  its  place  stemming  the  world's 

retreat. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 

The  fact  my  soul  faithful  to  its  native  dreams, 

The  fact  my  soul  making  all  paths  its  own, 

The  fact  that  burns  at  the  stake  and  is  the  fact  still, 

The  fact  that  you  shoot  in  battle  and  that  comes  back  to 

you  after  the  peace, 

The  fact  in  its  place,  the  stubborn  unsparing  fact, 
The  fact  my  soul  not  pausing  or  hastening  its  deeds. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 

The  fact  myself  as  much  fact  as  any, 

The  fact  myself  to  which  all  other  facts  converge, 

Always  when  in  its  place  invulnerable, 

Always  when  in  its  place  the  sun  of  the  orbited  planets, 

The  fact  of  all  facts  to  the  soul  the  one  fact  to  respect, 

The  fact  the  self  rank  as  earth  and  clean  as  a  fresh  wind, 

The  fact  in  its  place  warning  trespassers  off. 

Somewhere  a  fact  stands  in  its  place: 

The  fact  the  self  to  which  the  universe  reports, 


OPTIMOS  109 


The  fact  in  its  place  the  soul, 
The  soul  in  its  place  the  fact. 


WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG 

When  I  was  young  and  accepted  the  assurances  of  my  fathers 
and  mothers, 

Before  I  got  acquainted  with  God  and  before  I  got  ac 
quainted  with  myself, 

While  I  waited  on  the  outside  of  things  watching  for  doors 
to  open  and  clouds  to  break, 

While  the  priest  prepared  me  for  heaven  and  the  policeman 
prepared  me  for  earth  and  I  prepared  myself  for  nothing, 

Then  I  worshiped  a  bible  and  a  pulpit,  a  book  thumbed  in 
a  church, 

And  expected  to  break  a  way  to  salvation  while  the  guards 
of  heaven  were  asleep. 

Bibles,  I  said,  were  plenty,  the  fruit  of  the  easiest  success, 
Any  print  shop  could   make   me   a  bible  and  take  me  to 

heaven, 
And  I  admitted  that  if  Jesus  could  intercede  with  God  any 

priest  could  intercede  with  Jesus, 
And  if  alphabets  made  words  and  words  phrases  and  phrases 

bibles,  then  alphabets  were  bibles  and  if  I  learned  an 

alphabet  I  was  a  saved  man. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  I  was  saved, 
To  know  that  I  enjoyed  advantages  over  other  men, 
That  a  priest  said  that  a  book  said  so  and  that  my  eyes  con 
firmed  the  book  and  the  priest, 

That  for  my  superior  virtues  I  could  chariot  my  body  to 
heaven  and  gather  my  reward  in  glory, 


110  OPTIMOS 

That  some  one  went  to  a  high  place  for  me  once  and  in  my 

name  received  a  tablet, 
And  that  in  such  a  drama  of  the  soul's  seasons  I  was  to  play 

a  master  part, 
Basking  in  the  rapture  of  the  firmament  forever. 

But  this  all  transpired  in  my  sleep. 

And  something  happened  to  me  and  shook  me  awake, 

And  that  great  peace  of  self  which  surpasses  the  nonchalance 

of  eternity  was  eclipsed  in  an  adverse  verdict, 
And  the  priest  fell  away  in  a  pit,  I  could  not  see  where, 
And  the  bibles,  too,  followed  their  priest,  and  the  same  pit 

engulfed  them, 
And  all  the  superiorities  of  salvation  hastened  by  the  same 

way  to  oblivion, 
And  here  I  stood  alone  on  the  brink  of  life,  bare,  stript  to 

the  soul, 
Facing  the  rude  surprises  of  the  flesh. 

What  need  of  bibles  now,  I  asked,  while  men  and  women 

last? 
While   the   roots  of  trees   last  and  the  seas  sweep  up  the 

shores  ? 

While  slaves  of  markets  last  and  slaves  we  call  masters  last? 
While  there  are  errands  left  for  the  soul  to  run  why  should 

words  be  laid  away  to  die? 
While  suns  continue  to  blaze  why  should  words  be  called  in 

to  put  out  their  fires? 

For  now  the  bibles,  the  everyday  people,  came  near,  and 
said:  Read  the  words  of  our  sorrow. 

For  now  the  bibles,  the  cries  of  the  oppressed  for  justice, 
crowded  about  me  and  said:  Take  this  text  for  the  les 
son  of  your  redemption. 


OPTIMOS  111 

For   now    the   bibles,   the    haunted  mills,   the  devastating 
mines,  spelled  out  the  demurrers  of  the  silences  and 
said:  Take  from  us  the  commandments  of  a  new  law. 
For  these,  I  saw,  were  bibles  more  than  bibles, 
To  these  Jesus  must  give  up  the  cross  of  his  inheritance, 
To  these  the  ancient  prophets  and  disciples  have  resigned 

their  portfolios: 
To  these  all   administrators    defer  administration  and  all 

judges  consign  judgment: 

To  these,  messaging  me  in  the  dawn  of  the  day  I  awoke, 
In  the  dawn  of  the  day  convincing  me  of  life, 
After  the  darkness  of  the  night  that  had  only  convinced  me 
of  death. 


I,    TOO,    HAVE    A    BIG    PLACE    TO    FILL    IN 
THIS   LITTLE   WORLD 

I,  too,  have  a  big  place  to  fill  in  this  little  world: 

I,  too,  am  a  creator  of  results,  a  master  of  harvests: 

I,  too,  am  to  report  what  I  think  of  the  farthest  meanings 

of  things: 
I,  too,  must  hereafter  be  listened  to  respectfully  even  by  my 

enemies: 
In  the  finish  of  the  stars  nothing  can  be  left  out  without 

ruin  to  the  rest — 
The  least  significant  object  cant  be  left  out  without  ruin  to 

the  most  significant — 
So  that  my  place,  humble  as  it  is,  is  as  great  as  any  other's 

place, 
And  though  I  shine  ever  so  little  I  shine  as  brightly  as  any 

other  who  shines  ever  so  much, 

For  the  substance  of  a  man  is  not  in  what  he  measures  him 
self  to  be  but  in  what  he  is, 


112  OPTIMOS 

For  the  collateral  of  a  man  is  not  in  his  perishable  conquests 

but  in  his  imperishable  loyalty, 
For  the  only  real  victory  of  all  victories  coming  to  a  man  is 

the  victory  of  his  love  though  it  is  a  victory  of  defeat. 

I  call  myself  out  from  where  I  was  hidden: 

I  have  been  ashamed  to  sign  my  own  name:  now  I  sign  it 
with  a  bold  stroke. 

I  have  let  the  illustrious  precede  and  obscure  me  as  if  I  was 
a  reproach  to  God: 

I  have  always  taken  last  places,  making  way  without  ques 
tion  for  any  one  who  pushed  ahead: 

I  have  been  quick  to  assume  you,  O  my  brother,  whatever 
you  are,  and  slow  to  assume  myself: 

I  have  permitted  money  and  power  and  position  to  go  be 
fore  me  unquestioned: 

I  have  stood  aside  for  my  betters,  always  rating  myself  at  a 
discount: 

And  so  the  world  has  marched  over  me,  booted  and  spurred, 
as  if  I  was  an  alien, 

And  so  the  world  has  taken  me  at  my  word  and  arrogantly 
assisted  in  my  effacement, 

And  so  the  world  has  assigned  to  me  nothing  but  the  use 
less  leavings  of  life. 

Now  I  rise   in  revolt — now  I   lift  up  my  bowed  head  and 

shake  my  mane: 
Now  I  turn  a  new  page  of  the  book — turn  to  my  page:   I 

demand  that  you  listen  to  me: 
Now  my  call  is  heard:  I  raise  my  voice  to  its  loudest  pitch: 

listen! 

I  step  out  from  my  own  littleness  into  my  own  immensity: 
I  no  longer  play  second  whether  or  no,  reporting  for  only 

the  minor  roles: 


OPTIMOS  113 

I  feel  at  last  as  if  there  were  sufficient  grounds  for  my  in 
troduction  among  you: 

I  feel  as  if  there  would  be  a  flaw  in  the  argument  if  I  failed 
to  appear — 

I  feel  as  if  the  curtain  would  have  to  be  rung  down  and  I 
would  have  to  be  sent  for: 

I,  who  have  been  so  long  excluded  by  excluding  myself: 

I,  now  fully  awake,  calling  lustily  to  my  own  soul  to  con 
form  to  its  size  and  style. 

You  thought  you  were  forgotten  when  the  inventory  of  the 
earth  was  made  out — 

You  thought  all  the  half  men  were  counted  in  and  made 
much  of  but  though  you  were  not  worth  while:  you 
thought  you  were  set  aside- 

You  allowed  the  dandies  to  have  their  way  with  the  uni 
verse,  pushing  everyone  else  off  the  edge: 

You  took  the  back  seats:  you  sat  on  the  hard  boards:  you 
gave  away  that  for  which  you  starved. 

I  ask  the  seed:  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the  tree? 

I  ask  the  wave:   Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the  sea? 

I  ask  the  rock:  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the  moun 
tain? 

Why  should  you?  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the 
finish  of  what  you  began? 

I  ask  the  sun:  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the  day? 

I  ask  the  crowd:  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the 
child? 

I  ask  the  law:  Why  should  you  be  humble  before  the  execu 
tioner? 

You  should  be  humble  but  you  should  be  humble  only  be 
fore  your  own  soul: 

You  should  not  put  anything  in  place  of  your  soul  and  be 
humble  before  that: 


114  OPTIMOS 

Not  money,  not  a  man  (not  the  greatest  man),  not  a  cause, 

nothing: 
Nothing  should  be  put  in  place  of  your  own  soul:  the  soul 

is  supreme: 
The  big  soul,  the  little  soul,  any  soul:  it  does  not  signify: 

the  soul  is  supreme: 
Oh!  be  careful  divine  dear  brother  what  you  do  with  your 

soul — how  reverently  you  treat  your  soul: 
Once  you  put  anything  in  place  of  it  it  is  hard  to  get  back! 

oh,  so  hard! — 
If  you  put  money  in  place  of  it  or  even  learning  or  even 

love  (mad  tempting  love)  it  is  all  up  with  the  soul: 
You  can  do  anything  else  and  get  back  but  if  you  have  put 

something  in  place  of  the  soul  you  may  find  you  can 

never  get  back! 

Now  I  rank  highest  and  lowest — I  take  my  proper  station: 
Now  I  belong  to  the  few  who  are  no  better  than  the  many 

and  to  the  many  who  are  as  good  as  the  few: 
I  quote  my  stock  high:  mountains  could  not  reach  to  it  nor 

suns  that  light  their  crests: 
I  see  no  reason  further  why  I  should  toss  myself  into  the 

void: 
I,  too,  have  a  big  place  to  fill  in  this  little  world. 


I    HAVE   AN   APPOINTMENT   WITH    GOD 

I  have  an  appointment  with  God: 

And  whatever  is  missed  that  has  to  be  kept: 

And  though  all  was  missed — the  very  globe  itself,  the  skies: 

though  that  was  missed: 
Though  all  love  was  missed — and  my  neighbors  and  family 

and  success  were  missed:  though  they  were  all  missed: 


OPTIMOS  115 

I  must  be  on  the  right  spot  at  the  time  fixed  for  me:  must 

be  there  body  and  soul: 
In  day  or  night,  in  sunshine  or  storm,  in  life  or  death,  I 

must  be  there: 
To  take  up  my  note  with  God   in  person:    (no    emissary 

could  assume  my  place): 
..I  must  be  there  eye  to  eye  with  God  to  redeem  the  sacred 

obligation: 
In  cruelty  or  blight,  in  mercy  or  fertility,  I  must  be  there 

without  fail: 
The  whole  universe,  God,  on  the  one  side,  and  I,  a  single 

man  on  a  minor  star,  on  the  other  side: 
On  the  day  long  ago  set  appearing  without  forfeit:    God 

appearing  with  me:  to  settle  our  little  account. 

I  have  an  appointment  with  God  and  will  keep  it:  I  will  be 

on  the  spot  at  the  time  fixed:   my  body,  my  soul,  will 

be  there: 
But   just  as  much  God  has  an  appointment  with  me  and 

God  will  not  default: 
For  somehow  the  beautiful  contract  wont  work  unless  both 

are  faithful, 
And  it  would  be  no  disgrace  to  God  to  be  as  loyal  to  me  as 

I  am  expected  to  be  to  God: 
The  debt  must  be  paid  both  ways  until  no  balance  is  left  on 

either  side: 
The  debt  of  God  to  me  so  vast  accruing  and  my  debt  to 

God  piled  up  in  mountainous  eras  of  time: 
I  have  an  appointment:  I  will  keep  it:  I  will  pay: 
And  that  which  I  pay  will  be  receipted  for  with  more  life 

until  I  am  poured  full  and  satisfied. 

Nothing  else  matters:  only  God  matters  and  I  matter: 
The  other  things  may  result  as  they  will:  they  do  not  matter: 


116  OPTIMOS 

But  I  by  my  truce  must  round  up  in  God  and  God  by  God's 
truce  must  round  up  in  me: 

This  matters  much — this  matters  all:  that  this  should  come 
out  right: 

If  God  went  astray  looking  for  me  or  I  went  astray  looking 
for  God:  that  would  matter  all: 

It  would  be  as  if  the  earth  went  astray  looking  for  the  sun 
or  the  sun  went  astray  looking  for  the  earth: 

It  belongs  to  God  to  be  as  extra  careful  about  me  as  for  me 
to  be  extra  careful  about  God, 

So  that  what  was  so  wonderfully  arranged  for  far  back 
should  come  out  just  as  was  intended: 

The  fates  across  the  farthest  stretches  of  the  years  handing 
me  to  God  just  as  I  should  be: 

That  matters  much — matters  all:  that  no  item  of  this  in 
heritance  should  be  ignored: 

I  meeting  God  perfectly  equipped  and  worthy  of  God  for 
ever: 

God  meeting  me  perfectly  equipped  and  worthy  of  me  for 
ever. 

I  have  an  appointment  with  God:  I  dont  mean  to  dodge  or 

postpone  it: 
It  is  not  way  off  somewhere  in  time  and  the  skies:  no;  it  is 

today  and  right  here: 
I  did  not  make  the  appointment — it  was  made  for  me  ages 

before  I  was  born: 
I   see   what   it   commits  me  to:    I  stand  by  it:    the  pledge 

taken  for  me  I  will  keep: 
They  knew  very  well  what  I  would  come  to:  the  fathers  of 

my  fathers — they  knew  very  well: 
When  they  signed  my  name  for  me  they  signed  my  heart: 

they  knew  the   divine   quality  of  their  act:    they  left 

nothing  to  be  added: 


OPTIMOS  117 

They  looked  on  and  on:  they  foresaw  me  on  expanding 
horizons:  I  was  to  them  the  same  as  already  here: 

Then  they  waited:  they  passed  from  the  byways  of  the  flesh: 
they  turned  into  the  common  road: 

Long  after  I  appeared:  O  revered  countless  fathers! — ap 
peared  to  make  good  for  you. 

What  will  I  bring  God  to  pay  off  my  debt  with? 

I  must  be  mighty  careful  that  I  bring  the  right  stuff  or  I'll 
be  sent  back  shamed  and  dishonored: 

I  must  bring  God  genuine  stuff  or  God  can  make  no  use  of 
what  I  offer  to  pay: 

I  must  bring  God  love  or  the  purport  of  love  and  nothing 
short  of  it:  I  must:  I  must: 

I  must  bring  justice  or  the  purport  of  justice:  must  bring 
cheer  or  the  purport  of  cheer: 

Without  this  all  I  bring  or  anyone  brings  would  be  laughed 
at  and  rejected: 

All  the  show  and  the  wrong  and  the  pride  of  the  rich  over 
the  poor  would  be  rejected: 

All  the  traitorous  arts,  all  the  deserting  cultures,  would  be 
rejected: 

Nothing  will  do,  nothing  will  count,  but  love  and  the  pur 
port  of  love: 

From  judges,  statesmen,  poets,  workmen,  anybody — noth 
ing  but  love  and  the  purport  of  love: 

It  would  be  hopeless  to  bring  anything  but  love  or  the 
purport  of  love — oh,  so  hopeless! — and  expect  to  get 
through. 

I  have  an  appointment  with  God:    and  whatever  is  missed 

that  must  be  kept: 
I    have   a  debt   to  settle  with  God:   and  whatever  is  paid 

crooked  that  must  be  paid  straight: 


118  OPTIMOS 

I  have   made  a  contract  with  God:   and  whatever  matters 

nothing  that  matters  all: 
I  stand  to  the  agreement:   I  dont  ask  to  be  let  off:  nor  does 

God:  we  are  on  good  terms  with  each  other: 
And  love  alone  will  pay:  will  pay  from  me  to  God:  will 

pay  from  God  to  me: 
Nothing  less  than  love  will  pay:   I  must  pay  with  love:  and 

God  must  pay: 
(Oh,  I  feel  full  of  God's  love  even  now:  I  wonder  if  God 

has  not  already  overpaid?): 
Not  the  love  lovers  talk  about:   no:    the  love  lovers  live: 

that  love  alone: 
There  may  be  other  ways:   I  see  only  love:  and  God — what 

does  God  see? 

The  hour  strikes  (O  God,  I  am  here!):  I  have  an  appoint 
ment  with  God. 


THEY  SAY  I  AM   TOO  FAMILIAR  WITH   GOD 

They  say  I  am  too  familiar  with  God, 

They  say  that  I  talk  of  God  as  if  he  lived  next  door, 

They  say  that  I   use  God's  name  as  freely  as  if  it  was  my 

name  or  my  child's  name  or  the  name  of  my  bosom 

friend: 

I  am  accused  of  being  on  speaking  terms  with  God, 
I  am  taken  to  task  for  shaking  hands  with  God  and  walking 

with  him  arm  in  arm: 
They  tell  me  that  I  have  been  known  to  contradict  God 

just  as  if  he  might  be  wrong  and  I  might  be  right. 
Well — I  admit  their  charges.   I  admit  that  everything  they 

bring  up  against  me  is  true. 
I  think  God  and  I  are   in  pretty  good  feather  with  each 

other, 


OPTIMOS  119 

It  seems  to  me  God  is  even  a  good  deal  nearer  to  me  than 

next  door — 
Oh!  I  could  not  tell  you  how  much  nearer — how  much,  how 

much: 
Why,  if  I  was  to  say  he  was  as  near  as  in  my  own  house  I 

would  not  near  tell  how  near  he  is. 
God  used  to  be  shoved  off  somewhere  in  space,  way  off,  so 

nobody  could  touch  him, 
The  farther  off  he  was  the  more  God  he  was:   the  less  he 

loved  man  the  more  man  was  to  love  him: 
The  priests  retired  him  to  the  remotest  distances  and  stood 

between    and    taxed    men    for     interceding    with    the 

recluse. 
I  dont  think  I  could  have  much  use  for  God  if  he  had  no 

use  for  me, 
I  dont  think  I  care  about  God  if  he  must  be  far  away  and 

cannot  be  approached  and  consorted  with, 
I  dont  think  I  fancy  God  much  if  it  takes  somebody  to  in 
troduce  us, 
I  dont  think  God  stands  for  what  I  need  if  he  withdraws 

himself  to  impossible  heavens, 

Nothing  will  satisfy  me  but  to  have  God  next  to  me  wher 
ever  I  am, 
Nothing  will   do   for   God  but  to  be  about  things  and  in 

things  whatever  is  happening. 
I  want  to  know  just  how  and  where  to  find  God  when  I  am 

hungry  and  thirsty  for  God: 
God  has  held  himself  aloof  long  enough — has  refused  to 

make  his  earthbond  good, 
Now  we  want  God  to  come  down  off  his  high  horse  and 

mix  with  the  crowd. 
There  are  fool  worshipers  who  are  straining  their  eyes  blind 

to  see  God  making  a  show  of  himself  on  the  mountain 

tops, 


120  OPTIMOS 

But  I  have  better  use  for  my  sight — I  see  God  at  work  in 

my  own  hands,  too  busy  to  hunt  up  the  cross. 
I   do  not  feel  that  I   need  to  lift  myself  above  my  average 

foothold  to  reach  God — 
I  stay  where  I  am  and  find  the  secret  disclosed  in  the  open 

day. 
The  priests  chant  obeisances  to  God  and  address  God  in 

tones  of  awe, 

I  find  my  native  tongue  good  enough  to  use  with  God — 
Yes,  I  find  that  God  understands  me  best  when  I  speak  a 

language  I  myself  am  at  home  with: 
I  would  feel  lonesome  and  ready  to  give  up   if  I  thought 

God  was  above  being  my  companion — was  my  master 

giving  commands. 

Yes,  God  and  I  are  well  acquainted: 

We  do  not  need  to  be  reminded  of  each  other  by  intro 
ducers, 

And  what  God  does  for  me  is  too  wonderful  to  be  set  down 
with  figures  in  an  argument, 

And  I  do  not  question  but  that  what  I  do  for  God  is  no  in 
significant  item. 

There  are  fathers  and  mothers  and  children  and  they  are 
very  close  to  each  other — oh!  so  close! 

And  there  is  the  comrade,  too — he  is  very  close  to  his  com 
rade:  oh!  so  close! 

But  when  I  think  of  God  and  try  to  tell  how  that  we  are 
dear  inseparable  lovers,  oh!  words  are  too  shabby  to 
tell  how  close  we  are! 

They  say  I  am  too  familiar  with  God,  but  I  dont  hear  God 

say  so: 
Do   not  worry,  dear  brothers — no  one  can  be  too  familiar 

with  God. 


OPTIMOS  121 

You  can  no  longer  put  God  away  somewhere  in  a  secret 

place — 
In  the  barren  years  God  was  so  far  to  the  north  his  comfort 

was  cold  when  it  reached  the  heart, 
Now  God  is  the  closest  by:  we  do  not  need  even  to  go  into 

the  next  house  to  find  him: 
I  have  made  God  common  to  the  commonest  earth — he  is 

the  genius  of  every  day  and  the  crowd: 
I  have  made  God  my  brother  where  once  I  was  told  he  was 

my  ruler: 
I  have  done  this:  do  you  not  feel  God  and  acknowledge  his 

free  providence? 
They  say  I  am  too  familiar  with  God! 


WHEN  I  AM   MOST  AT  HOME  WITH  MYSELF 

Wlien  I  am  most  at  home  with  myself, 

When  I  welcome  myself  at  the  front  door  and  the  back  door, 

When  I  welcome  myself  returned  from  heaven  and  returned 
from  hell, 

When  the  worst  of  me  meets  the  best  of  me  on  equal  terms, 

Then  I  feel  at  last  that  I  am  getting  acquainted  with  my 
self, 

Then  I  shake  hands  with  the  universe  and  begin  to  see  its 
meanings. 

I  was  in  the  farther  past  a  stranger  to  myself, 

I  wandered  alone  in  the  world  seeking  a  companion, 

I  lied  to  myself  out  of  the  fulness  of  words, 

I  assailed  myself  out  of  the  fulness  of  deeds. 

There  I  was  forever  the  criminal  in  my  own  dock, 

There  I  was  perpetually  self  accused, 

There  I  was  condemned  to  hard  penances  and  forfeits  of 
servitude, 


122  OPTIMOS 

There  I  was  counsel  for  my  own  conviction, 

There  I  was  in  session  as  a  court  of  last  resort  hearing  my 
own  appeal  with  deaf  ears. 

The  one  thing  in  me  cried  out  against  the  other  thing  in 
me, 

Over  vast  distances  calling  I  challenged  myself  to  defeat, 

From  the  faroff  abysses  of  self  discord  came  the  nearby  des 
pairs  of  the  gulf. 

I  think  the  soul  may  travel  many  hells  and  come  from  them 

without  hurt, 
But  I  think  that  when  the  soul  passes  through  the  hell  of 

self  it  is  wounded  to  the  center. 
I  did  not  know  what  my  sorrow  was  all  about, 
I  did  not  know  why  I  wandered  earths  through  looking  for 

something  I  could  not  find, 
I  did  not  know  why  I  was  always  demanding  abroad  that 

which  is  always  at  home  and  only  at  home: 
But  there  I  was,  lost,  famished,  starving,  in  the  wilderness 

of  my  own  unstructured  self, 
Calling  to  strangers  by  name  to  yield  me  that  which  I  alone 

possessed. 

But  now  I  have  been  introduced  to  myself, 
And  each  day  the  two  of  us  are  becoming  better  acquainted, 
And    as    we    become  better  acquainted  we  become  better 

friends, 

And  we  find  in  each  other  unsuspected  good  points, 
And  we   no   longer  seem  to  need  witnesses  and  evidences 

and  arguments, 
And  I  look  about  and  see  no  judge  any  longer  sitting  on  our 

case, 

And  we  are  becoming  wonderful  cronies,  myself  and  me, 
And  each  time  we  meet  we  have  something  new  to  tell  each 

other, 


OPTIMOS  123 

And  that  is  why  I  have  said  that  I  am  getting  quite  at  home 

with  myself, 
And  that  when  I  am  most  at  home  with  myself  the  universe 

opens  its  heart  to  me 
And  all  mortal  severances  lapse  in  immortal  joy. 


LET   US   BE  SILENT   FROM   NOW   ON 

Let  us  be  silent  from  now  on,  the  loud  voices  say: 

The  good  things  have  all  been  said — why  say  them  again? 

The  voices  gathered  at  the  horizon  at  sunrise  and  advised 

the  sun  not  to  come  up: 
The  good  sunrises  have  all  happened — why  should  the  sun 

rise  again? 
The  voices  hurried  to  the  ambitious  acorn  and  asked  the 

acorn:  Why  are  you  fool  enough  to  want  to  be  an  oak? 
They  asked:   Oaks  have  been  oaks  for  a  long  time:  all  the 

real  oaks  have  lived:  why  add  to  the  humdrum  of  oaks? 
But  the  oak  did  not  trouble  itself  to  ask  the  meaning  of  the 

oak,  it  just  grew: 
It  did  not  apologize  because  oaktrees  had  existed  before,  it 

was  just  fulfilled: 

The  sun  comes  up  beautiful  every  morning  according  to  ap 
pointment — sometimes  in  cloud,   sometimes  fair,    but 

always  beautiful. 
The  voices  protest  but  the  earth  turns  and  the  moon  and  the 

stars  go  on  attending  to  their  business. 
I  too  hear  the  voices  and  they  always  say  the  same  thing: 
The  voices  never  go  forward — they  always  go  back. 
I  do  not  say  that  the  great  things  have  not  all  been  spoken — •• 
I  only  say  that  I  too  will  speak  great  truths: 
I    do   not  know  but  I   may    speak  the  greatest  truths  yet 

spoken. 


124  OPTIMOS 

I   do  not  stop  at  the  germ — I  go  on  to  the  flower  and  the 

fruit: 
I  do  not  stop  at  the  impulse  to  sing:  I  go  on  to  the  song:  I 

sing: 
Whether  I  say  old  things  or  new  things  does  not  seem  to 

matter, 
But  whether  I  say  true  things  does  matter  a  good  deal  and 

all. 

Whether  men  lived  before  I  lived  does  not  matter, 
But  whether  I  live  a  big  life  matters  a  good  deal  and  all. 
The  voices  call  out  for  retreat  but  I  go  on. 
dont  know  but  my  honest  dream  is  as  original  as  any, 
dont  know  but  my  feet  too  tread  virgin  ground, 
dont  know  but  I  too  am  a  pioneer  going  beyond  all  the 

settlements, 

dont  know  but  I  too  say  first  words  in  a  new  tongue: 
dont  know — I  dont  know:  how  could  I  know  and  why 

should  I  care  to  know? 

I  dont  know  but  I  too  may  help  men  in  their  despairs, 
I  dont  know  but  I  may  divulge  passwords  as  potential  as  any 

that  have  been  bequeathed  by  the  past, 
I  dont  know  but  the  world  was  begun  again  bran  new  the 

day  I  came  over, 

I  dont  know  but  my  live  call  will  go  as  far  and  be  as  wel 
come  as  a  dead  echo. 
God  knows  I  have  nothing  but  honor  for  the  live  remains 

of  dead  prophets: 
I  get  down  off  my  high  horse  and  worship  them,  I  borrow 

strength  from  my  proud  inheritance: 
But  I  dont  see  why  I  should  quote  them  against  myself, 
But  I  dont  see  why  I  should  make  them  so  useful  I  am  no 

use  at  all, 
But  I  dont  see  why  they  should  stand  in  my  way  and  why  I 

should  not  have  the  right  to  shove  them  aside. 


OPTIMOS  125 

Yes,  I  hear  the  voices,  and  they  declare  that  the  world  to 
day  is  no  good — only  the  parent  world  was  good: 

But  I  revolt — I  talk  up  for  my  own  time  and  the  kind  of 
people  who  go  with  it. 

I  say  to  the  voices:  Listen  to  me — I  will  replace  the  best 
words  of  the  saints  by  the  better  words  of  the  sinners, 

I  will  take  the  oldest  images  of  love  and  establish  them  in 
newest  relations  with  the  heart. 

Do  you  say  the  many  seers  of  many  ages  have  helped  men 
to  live? 

I  say  it  before  you  and  after  you  but  I  also  say  I  help  men 
to  live. 

I  dont  know  why  today's  glory  should  borrow  from  yester 
day's  sunlight, 

I  don't  know  why  today's  hunger  should  be  fed  with  yes 
terday's  food, 

I  dont  know  why  I  should  humble  and  surrender  myself  to 
the  phantom  procession  of  my  fathers: 

I  keep  the  process  coherent — I  am  as  vital  an  atom  as  any, 

I  coming  when  I  do  am  as  original  as  any  other  coming 
when  he  may. 

Though  true  lives  have  always  been  lived  truer  lives  will 
always  remain  to  be  lived: 

I  will  prove  that  though  supreme  things  have  been  said  they 
will  remain  to  be  said  again, 

And  I  will  prove  that  whatever  dead  singers  may  have  been 
to  men  I  will  be  more  than  that  over  again, 

And  I  will  prove  that  I  am  genuine  as  any  and  that  it  wont 
pay  the  world  to  refuse  to  listen, 

For  the  same  force  that  of  old  made  use  of  others  is  now 
making  use  of  me, 

And  ideals  imperfect  in  the  best  of  them  are  perfect  in  me, 

As  ideals  imperfect  in  me  will  be  perfect  hereafter  in  my 
successors. 


126  OPTIMOS 

I  dont  think  all  the  good  things  have  been  said  or  could  be 
said: 

Why,  I  can  hear  unborn  lovers  even  now  underground,  seed- 
sowers  of  spiritual  prophecy,  preparing  the  harvests  of 
future  years: 

They  will  come,  all  of  them,  in  due  time,  saying  more  and 
more,  after  I  have  got  through, 

Just  as  I  came  after  others  got  through  as  they  after  others 
and  so  on  back  to  the  beginning, 

No  one  preferred  to  the  rest. 


ONLY   TO    LET   THINGS   GO 

Only  to  let  things  go, 

Only  to  stop  fixing  bounds  for  myself, 

Only  to  do  as  I  please  and  be  happy, 

Only  to  be  foolish  when  the  world  says  I  should  be  wise, 

Only  to   get  away  from  the  measurers  and  give  myself  a 

chance  to  see  what  I  really  am, 
Only  to  get  my  true  measure  by  not  taking  any  measure 

at  all, 

Only  to  see  the  farthest  by  not  trying  to  see  at  all, 
Only  to  hear  divine  voices  by  not  listening  for  voices  at  all, 
Only  to  be  myself  without  making  an  effort  to  be  myself  at 

all, 
Only  to  wanton  with  the  day  and  take  it  without  suspicion 

on  its  own  terms, 
Only  to  get  beyond   the  cry  of   the   strongest  voice   calling 

me  back, 

Only  to  get  where  no  chase  can  any  longer  dog  my  quick 
ened  feet, 
Only  to  wrench  my  despoiled  self  free  from  the  habits  of 

the  ruly, 


OPTIMOS  127 

Only  to  salute  the  fraternity  of  a  world  lawlessly  superior 
to  law. 

Only  to  let  things  go: 

To  be  as  I  am  when  I  dream  free  dreams  of  myself,  and 

dreams  are  what  dreams  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  before  I  am  good  or  bad,  and  good  and  bad 

are  what  good  and  bad  may  be, 

To  be  as  I  am  before  the  law  comes  and  appoints  me  a  les 
son   in   obedience,  and   obedience    is   what    obedience 

may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  before  religion  comes  and  makes  me  a  date 

with  the  cross,  and  the  cross  is  what  the  cross  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  before  I  become  a  social  asset  or  an  indus 
trial  fact,  and  assets  and  facts  are  what  assets  and  facts 

may  be, 

To  be  as  I  am  when  love  is  as  love  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  rebellion  is  as  rebellion  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  a  woman  takes  me  in  her  arms  and  is 

as  a  woman  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  no  one  is  looking  on  and  honesty  is  as 

honesty  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  I  am  not  respectable  and  manhood  is 

as  manhood  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  I  do  not  care  whose  voices  are  for  me 

or  whose  against  me,  and  voices  are  as  voices  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  nothing  holds  me  back  and  nothing 

pushes  me  forward,  and  progress  is  as  progress  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  the  last  restraint  is  removed,  and  birds 

sing  as  birds  sing,  and  grasses  grow  as  grasses  grow,  all 

as  they  freely  may  be, 
To  be  as  I  am  when  I  do  not  look  for  victory  or  defeat, 

and  when  victory  and  defeat  are  as  victory  and  defeat 

may  be, 


128  OPTIMOS 

This  it  is  that  takes  possession  of  my  veins  and  runs  me  hot 

and  fast  with  living  blood, 
This   it   is   that  comes  to  life  when  life   is  let  alone  and 

allowed  to  pay  its  debt  in  the  elysian  equities  of  the 

spirit. 

Only  to  let  things'  go!   only  to  let  things  go! 

To  hold  nothing  back  for  discounts  or  contingencies, 

To  check  no  prophetic  impulse, 

To  pass  unstopped  beyond  the  last  frontier. 


BEFORE    BOOKS    AND 
AFTER  BOOKS 


Put  down  your  pen,  said  love,  and  start  again, 

The  pen  has  done  for  love  all  that  the  pen  can  do, 

The  pen  has  done  all  things  but  live,  yet  life  is  love. 

Now  I  demand  of  you  confirming  deeds, 

Demand  the  notes  so  long  accrued — their  pay  in  full, 

The  notes  of  prophet  voices  and  poet  rhymes  and  echoing  formulas, 

The  notes  of  sinais,  meccas,  sepulchers  and  crosses, 

In  lieu  of  dead  postponements  long  decreed. 


The  eminent  professor  handed  down  the  tablets  of  his  superiority  from 

a  college  on  high, 
In  a  dress  parade  of  phrases  calling  upon  the  poor  world  to  take  off  its 

hat  to  his  rich  reputation. 

I  listened:   I  heard  the  noise:   I  was  not  convinced. 
Then  I  went  out  into  the  street:   the  day  was  wet  and  chilly: 
A  sallow  Italian  worked  there  in  the  trench,  digging,  shivering: 
He  glanced  up  as  I  passed,  resting  on  his  shovel — 
His  eyes  looked  right  in  my  eyes,  friendly  like,  wondering, 
Then  he  resumed  his  work  without  saying  a  word,  digging,  shivering, 
Asking  for  nothing,  accusing  no  one: 
The  silence  was  enough. 


BEFORE   BOOKS   AND   AFTER   BOOKS 

Before  books  and  after  books  is  the  human  soul, 

Before  the  beauty  and  eminence  of  that  which  is  written 

is  the  superior  beauty  and  eminence  of  that  which  is 

written  about, 
Before  the  magnificence  of  the  greatest  book    comes  the 

majesty  of  the  meanest  soul. 

O  my  dear  brother,  do  you  propose  to  retire  before  the  pres 
ence  of  a  book? 
Do  you  consent  to  go  away  somewhere  and  let  the  book 

take  your  place? 
Is  the    book  so    undoubtable    and    are  you    so    much    less 

undoubtable  ? 
Is  the  sun  to  produce  the  fly  and  is  the  sun  to  blot  itself  out 

in  the  derived  life  of  the  fly? 
Is  the  book  to  mean  so  many  things  and  do  you  mean  less 

than  the  book  or  nothing  at  all? 
When  I  am  hunting   for  life  do  I  turn  the  pages  of  a  book 

or  do  I  lift  the  skin  off  your  palpitating  body? 
The  book  might  not  answer  the  heart  but  man  could  not 

refuse  to  answer  the  heart, 
The  word  of  the  book  can  easily  fail  but  the  word  of  the 

man  cannot  fail. 

Have  we  forgotten  the  man  who  wrote  the  book  in  remem 
bering  the  book? 
Do  we  put  books  on  the  shelves  of  our  libraries  and  give 

notice  that  man  is  no  longer  necessary? 
Does  the  book  go  to  bed  with  us  at  night  and  answer  us 

hunger  for  hunger  in  the  appetite  of  the  flesh? 
You  know  where  the  book  comes  from — Oh  yes,  you  know, 

you  know: 

131 


132  OPTIMOS 

Do  you  know  where  man  comes  from — Oh,  do  you  know, 

do  you  know? 

The  written  life  has  made  light  of  the  unwritten  life, 
The  song  that  was  sung  has  taken  the  place  of  the  song 

that  was  left  unsung: 
We  have  united  in  the  praise  of  words,  in  the  adoration  of 

the  pageantry  of  phrases. 

Now  I  seem  to  hear  a  voice  that  calls  me  back  to  man, 
Now  I  seem  to  hear  footsteps  that  lead  me  back  to  the  love 

of  the  body  and  of  the  soul, 
Now   I   seem  to   see  all  words  withdrawn  and  the  divine 

presence  of  man  substituted   for   the   malpresence    of 

words, 
Now  the  abused  words  have  retreated  to  take  their  places  in 

the  dictionary, 
Now  the  soul  which  so  long  fed  upon  words  may  feed  upon 

the  soul  again, 
Now  the  love  of  man  for  man  may  no  longer  treat  through 

halting  phrases  but  may  confess  to  love  direct. 
At  last  I  have  learned  the  lesson  of  words  which  is  a  lesson 

not  of  words, 
At  last  I  have  learned  to  refer  words  to  the  soul  and  not  to 

refer  the  soul  to  words, 
At  last  I  have  seen  that  words  at  their  best  are  poor  and 

that  man  at  his  worst  is  rich, 
At  last  I  have  substituted  life's  order  for  the  chaos  of  words 

about  life, 
At  last  all  words  however  strong  and  however  gentle  ^nd 

however  beautiful  have  retired  from  the  avenues  of  life, 
At  last  I  am  left  alone  with  the  soul  and  the  soul's  uncer 
tainties  and  the  soul's  assurances. 
For  I  have  made  up  the  whole  account  of  life  at  last, 
I  have  shown  to  myself  the  totals  which  so  long  perplexed 

me, 


OPTIMOS  133 

The  totals  of  life,  the  added  treasure  of  life,  unmixed  with 

sordid  syllables  of  speech, 
Taking  to  my  very  flesh  and  my  very  spirit  the  throbbing 

body  of  original  law, 
Seeing  life  again  as  life  was  seen  before  a  word  of  life  had 

been  spoken, 
Seeing  life  again  as  Before  words  about   life  had  taken  the 

sacred  seat  and  proclaimed  the  regime  of  phrases, 
Seeing  finally  with  inexorable  vision  the  way  that  life  comes 

and  the  way  that  life  goes  whatever  may  happen  with 

words, 
I  who  know  that  before  books  and  after  books  is  the  human 

soul. 


AFTER   ALL   IS   SAID 

After  all  is  said, 

After  all  the  clever  talkers  have  talked, 

After  we  see  that  nothing  is  said  until  something  true  is 

said, 
After  we  learn  that  true  things  do  not  need  to  be  said  or  to 

be  endorsed, 

After  we  acknowledge  that  only  false  things  need  to  be  said, 
A  curtaining  truce  of  silence  falls  upon  all  languages  over 

the  face  of  the  earth, 
And  men  far  and  near  who  were  kept  apart  from  each  other 

by  speech  look  into  each  other's  faces  in  the  silences 

and  understand. 

Who  can  account  for  the  mysterious  emptiness  of  words? 
The  rivers  of  the  earth  flowed  before  words  flowed, 
The  stars  in  space  were  hot  and  cold  before  words  were  hot 

and  cold, 
Poetry  was  poetry  before  words  came  to  the  poet, 


134  OPTIMOS 

Life  held   its  fragments   well  together  before  the  logician 

gave  logic  to  words, 
Love  loved  best  before  the  words  of  the  lover  and  will  love 

best  again  after  all  the  words  of  lovers  have  passed  away. 
The  world  is  misled  by  the  wordiness  of  words, 
Words  are  stuffed  and  choked  with  their  stale  air, 
And  I  can  already  brush  dust  off  the  newest  words. 
We  keep  on  saying  things  that  have  all  been  said, 
The  silences  always  show  words  their  heels 
Words  are  for  short  trips,  the  silences  are  for  long  journeys, 
The  silences  are  home  and  tucked  in  bed  before  words  have 

footsored  their  slow  way  to  a  finish. 
After  all  is  said  and  words  are  bankrupt, 
The  silences  take  up  the  task  with  miracled  touch. 
Then  the  dead  fields  hasten  their  harvests. 
And  words  themselves  come  along    and  ask    the  silences: 

What  is  your  secret? 
Why  does  everything  respond  to  you  and  nothing  come  at 

our  will? 
Why  do  the  children  nestle  up  to  you  and  run  in  terror  from 

us? 
Words  worded  a  great  mist,  the  silences  came  and  cleared 

the  weather. 
I  am  sure  that  if  I  faced  a  god  or  a  judge  somewhere  and 

was  asked  to  account  for  myself  I  could  not  do  it  in 

words — 
I  would  have  to  appeal  to  the  sunrise  and  sunset  and  the 

carpenter's   bench   and   the   faces   of    the    children    to 

account  for  me. 
For  I   have  seen  that  the  scriptures  are  not  after  all  in  a 

book, 

They  are  in  hearts  and  in  the  plainest  people, 
They  are   eloquent   in   the   condemned  and  those  who  are 

thought  little  of, 


OPTIMOS  135 

They  are  radiant  in  the  men  with  smirched  hands  who  serve 
the  abhorred  utilities  of  the  state. 

For  so  they  live,  first  and  last,  with  unanswerable  stern 
power, 

Without  word  or  gesture  or  protest  or  plea  coming  inevit 
ably  to  their  own, 

After  all  is  said. 


COME,    GENTLEMEN,    LADIES,    MASTERS 

Come,  gentlemen,  ladies,  masters, 

Come  to  the  sale  of  these  effects! 

Come  in  all  your  pride,  come  with  adornment  and  blare: 

These  were  the  belongings  of  a  singer,  and  they  must  be 

sold  for  cash. 
Now  you  are  assembled,  now  you  are  ready  with  notebook 

and  purse, 

I  will  submit  to  you  the  wares  of  the  dead  poet, 
By  whose  will  the  world  is  offered  unpriced  spoil. 
Here,  then,  is  his  dream — what  do  you  bid? 
Nothing?     Will  no  one  have  it  at  any  price? 
Why  do  you  laugh?     Did  you  come  expecting  to  find  the 

customary  baubles? 

You  are  connoisseurs:  what  do  you  think  of  this  dream? 
It  must  be  worth  much  money.     Why,  he  died  for  it. 
And  still  you  are  silent? 
Here  are  his  hopes;   too — the  spare  substance  of    many  a 

meal, 

Here  are  debts  of  faith,  here  are  receipts  for  unpaid  credits, 
Here  are  his  long  nights  of  unrequited  slavery, 
Here  are  writs  of  dispossession  and  annals  of  his  defeats, 
Here  are  deeds  of  cloud  lots  and  liens  upon  heaven, 
Here  are  promises  of  gods  and  deridings  of  men. 


136  OPTIMOS 

What  rare  property  it  does  all  make! — and  still  you  do  not 

bid 

What  does  it  mean,  gentlemen,  ladies,  masters? 
Not  one  to  bid  where  so  much  may  be  bought? 
You  would  not  buy  this   man   in  his   life — I  thought  you 

would  buy  him  in  his  death. 

No?     Well,  the  judges  somewhere  judge — I  do  not: 
I  check  off  all  these  effects  for  heaven — let  them  ascend 

with  their  owner: 
These  would  have  made  you  free. 
Come  tomorrow  again,  gentlemen,  ladies,  masters — 
Tomorrow — come  with  full  purses: 
I   will   have   tomorrow  such   attractions    in   bonds,    rivets, 

fetters,  chains, 
That  all  may  purchase  and  all  go  home  satisfied. 


THE   MASTER   WAITED    LONG 

The  master  waited  long  before  he  wrote  his  song: 

Long  was  his  hand  stayed,  mysteriously  silent,  a  dread  and 

sickness  possessing  his  great  desire: 
In  his  byworld  he  wept,  in  his  closet  he  asked  questions, 

in  his  fire  he  turned  to  ashes  the  dead  leaves  of  his  song: 
The  master  who  honored  man  but  could   not  talk  of  his 

love: 
The  master  who  knew  nothing  of  himself  except  his  sweet 

wish  to  make  some  mortal  event  immortal: 
The  master  whose  heart  was  the  common  heart  and  whose 

voice  must  be  the  voice  of  the  crowd. 

But  one  day,  early  in  the  morning  of  the  day,  in  the  morn 
ing  after  a  night  of  disturbing  dreams, 
The  master  awoke:  awoke  not  to  the  day  but  to  himself: 


OPTIMOS  137 

Some  concealed  obstruction  to  his  flooded  feelings  was 
broken  down,  unseen  barriers  were  swept  away,  the 
many  worlds  opened  wide  in  his  one  heart: 

Voiceless  things  found  music  in  their  silences,  dead  hopes 
raised  their  wings  for  flight  again: 

The  master  was  born. 

The  master  was  born: 

Born  in  the  lateness  of  years,  born  to  the  dear  joy  of  him 
self, 

Born  away  from  old  hungers,  born  exempt  from  ambition, 
born  free  of  the  husk  of  pride,  born  in  the  release  of 
fraternity: 

The  master  who  waited  long,  the  master  whose  words  would 
not  come: 

The  master  whose  dreams  moled  in  the  ground. 

The  master  was  born  but  not  to  words: 

Somehow  the  words  came  but  the  words  that  came  were  not 
the  words  he  expected: 

And  pathos  came  but  he  wept  over  griefs  he  was  not  pre 
pared  for: 

And  secrets  were  divulged  but  none  of  them  were  the  se 
crets  of  his  prophecy: 

And  he  found  himself  close  to  the  people,  listening  to  them 
and  being  listened  to: 

And  he  grew  careless  about  his  phrases  and  careful  of  his 
love: 

And  he  watched  that  no  pretty  word  that  was  hideous  was 
put  where  the  ugly  word  that  was  beautiful  belonged: 

And  so  he  was  much  less  master  than  before  but  far  more 
man: 

And  so  he  was  watched  for  by  the  gaping  crowds  and  held 
preciously  in  open  arms: 


138  OPTIMOS 

The  master  who  had  waited  long  for  words  and  awoke  not 
to  words  that  prevent  song  but  to  song  itself. 

With  only  few  words  the  master  sung: 
With  fewer  words  than  few  the  master  sung: 
And  a  morrow  came  when  not  a  word  was  spoken  and  yet 
all  knew  the  master  was  singing  his  master  song. 

And  then  it  was  that  all  the  schools  of  the  earth  were  razed 

to  the  ground: 
And  then  it  was  that  scholars  retired  from  the  earth  and 

debates  ceased: 
And  then  it  was  that  a  great  presence  filled  everything  and 

revived  in  health  all  erring  life. 

What  was  the  unseeable  body  the  master  brought? 
What  was  the  unheard  song  the  master  conceived? 
What  was  the  power  in  him  that  swayed  all  wrong  to  its 

fall? 
What  was  that  in  his  heart  long  delayed  which  found  its 

voice  only  in  the  silence? 

What  was  it  that  made  him  from  that  time  dear  to  suffer 
ing  man? 
What  was  it  that  through  him  absolved  all  suffering  from  its 

office? 
What  was   it  that  burst  through  him   in  new   light   from 

a  fresh  sun? 
It  is  the  sacred  something  which  passes  between  bodies  and 

souls  that  love  yet  says  nothing: 
It  is  the  sacred  something  half  kept  half  revealed  which 

needs  no  middlemen: 

The  heart  of  the  master  in  the  heart  of  the  crowd: 
The  heart  of  the  master  going  down  into  the  world  without 

a  word: 


OPTIMOS  139 

The  heart  of  the  master  disputing  no  more  for  priorities  of 

words : 
The  heart  of  the  master  whose  words  no  more  were  words 

but  events  and  persons: 
The  heart  of  the  master  whose  art  was  a  chord  in  silence. 

And  it  was  for  this  that  the  master  waited  long  before  he 
wrote  his  song. 


THE   RUSHED   AND   CROWDED   AUDITORS 

The  rushed  and  crowded  auditors,  the  gesturing,  hurrying 

figures  on  the  stage, 

The  lights  turned  low,  the  silent  watch,  the  unraveling  plot, 
The  voice  of  tragedy,  the  foil  of  the  wit  of  the  clown, 
The  passion  of  some  bewildering  reminiscence  in  the  trick 

of  the  voice, 
The  interplayed  melancholy  of  violins,  the  uprisen  ardor  of 

flutes, 
And  I,  alone,  in  the  midst  of  all,  with  my  grief. 

Up  from  my  seat  I  sprang, 

At  my  command  the  auditors  dispersed,  the  players  disap 
peared  from  the  stage, 

I  cried  out  my  agony  till  the  emptied  house  eloquently  re 
turned  my  plaint. 

The  house  refilled  with  the  duplicates  of  myself: 

These  forgotten  and  remembered  figures  filed  in,  phantomed 
echoes  of  departed  experience: 

One  by  one  they  came,  quietly  seated  themselves  in  fore 
doomed  places — 

None  of  them  recognizing  each  other,  all  of  them  recog 
nized  by  me: 


140  OPTIMOS 

Rudiments  of  deeds,  dark  limnings  of  error,  outgrown  in 
heritances  and  lost  fortunes: 

The  players  returned  to  pursue  their  parts,  they  but  dupli 
cated  me  many  times  over, 

The  play  was  the  rehearsal  of  my  sorrow  and  the  brute  de 
mand  for  my  enfranchisement — 

Mad  that  I  was,  possessing  the  scene  within  my  palm, 

I  alone,  but  many  tongued  with  my  grief. 

Do  you  think,  O  actor,  that  it  is  you  who  act  the  play  and 

that  it  is  I  who  hear? 
From  your  pedestal  I  command  you — down  on  your  knees 

to  me! 

I  am  your  master,  you  find  no  play  if  you  do  not  find  me. 
Partner  player,  you  bring  me  myself  in  manifold  disguises, 
I  am  no  more  your  auditor  than  you  are  mine,  nor  your 

patron  paying  for  you  out  of  my  purse; 
I  pay  nothing  at  the  door:   I  pay  only  to  you,  and  pay  with 

drops  of  fostering  blood: 
And  your  return  is  but  the  return  of  myself,  scorned,  loved, 

in  varied  moods  and  habits, 
But  myself  alone,  myself. 

Dear  player,  I  do  fondly  cherish  you  and  am  not  less  fondly 

yours, 
We  play  our  offices  across  the  footlights,  I  dont  know  who 

plays  most,  or  which  side  is  the  strangest  drama: 
In  your  dull  despair  or  reawakened  hope  the  walls  of  the 

house  dissolve  and  we  are  of  one  essence  engaged  an  an 

eternal  venture. 
The  loud  applause  is  incense  but  it  does  not  deceive  you  or 

me: 
Well  do  we  know  who  made  this  play  and  why  the  gathered 

people  turned  it  into  a  shrine  and  sacrificed  on  its  altar, 


OPTIMOS  141 

You  alone,  dear  player,  with  me  alone,  dear  player  also, 
And  the  play  house  haunted. 


I  TOO   HAVE  SOMETHING  TO  SAY  TO   YOU 

I  too  have  something  to  say  to  you: 

I   too  talk  to  you  freely — the  freest  of  all — now  that  the 

others  are  done: 
And  though  I  do  not  raise  my  voice  high  and  make  a  noise 

and  overdress  my  words, 
And  though  I  do  not  insist  too  much  upon  myself  when  you 

dont  want  to  listen  to  me, 
Still  I  push  even  into  forbidden  places  and  say  my  say  in  an 

unwavering  voice, 
Sure  as  I  am  that  finally  you  will  know  what  I  come  for  and 

welcome  me: 
Not  today,   maybe,   or  tomorrow:    not,   maybe,   until  after 

many  todays  and  tomorrows: 
Not  at  once,  maybe,  but  in  the  end,  after  the  lesser  guides 

have  fallen  short  of  their  promises: 
In  the  darkness,  maybe:  not  turning  to  me  until  you  have 

tried  all  the  others  and  not  got  what  you  wanted:   not 

until  then: 
Hating  to  do  it,  resenting  me  still,  resisting  to  the  last,  yet 

undeniably  needing  me: 
Calling  my  name  in  reluctant  faith,  holding  yourself  back 

yet  summoning  me — 
Perhaps  despising  me  still,  perhaps  making  less  instead  of 

more  of  me  still, 
Yet  hungry,  thirsty:  pressed  to  the  verge:  delaying  no  more 

— crying  aloud  for  me: 
Not  knowing  who  I  am  or  what  I  mean,  yet  crying  for  me: 

in  wretchedness  and  despair  invoking  my  aid: 


142  OPTIMOS 

You,  all  of  you,  my  sisters  and  brothers,  in  whom  here  now 
as  you  see  me  I  excite  only  laughter  and  scorn. 

Everybody  has  had  something  to  say  to  you — everybody  has 
taken  you  in  hand: 

The  little  have  had  much  to  say  to  you  and  the  big  have 
had  little  to  say  to  you: 

And  they  have  said  things  to  you  out  of  laws  and  books  and 
the  past, 

And  they  have  said  things  to  you  out  of  armies  and  navies 
where  men  are  enemies  and  fight, 

And  they  have  said  things  to  you  out  of  parlors  and  offices 
and  out  of  vast  incomes, 

And  they  have  said  things  to  you  in  the  name  of  dead  relig 
ions  and  buried  humanities, 

And  they  have  said  things  in  the  script  of  alien  arts  testify 
ing  on  empty  sheets  of  paper: 

Thev  have  said  these  things  to  you:  these  things  and  more: 
and  yet  you  stand  around  waiting  for  something  still 
unsaid: 

Something,  you  dont  know  what:  something  not  in  all  their 
glittering  parade: 

Something  left  out  of  the  figures,  left  out  of  the  great  houses 
and  affairs: 

Something  preciously  necessary  yet  totally  forgotten:  what 
ever  it  is,  it  alone  being  real  and  sure: 

Something  answering  the  call  of  life  and  love:  from  the 
unfathomable  deeps  answering:  from  courage  and  sac 
rifice  answering: 

Something  which  the  masters  have  missed — something 
which  is  nowhere  in  their  catalogues  and  formulas: 

Something  which  the  body  may  skip  and  property  may  skip 
but  which  the  soul  cant  skip: 

Something,  something,  something. 


OPTIMOS  143 

Something,  something,  something: 

I  do  not  know:  maybe  I  make  too  much  of  myself:  maybe  I 

dont  weigh  as  much  as  I  think: 
But  somehow  it  seems  to  be  my  turn  now:   after  patiently 

waiting,  seems  to  be  my  turn: 
Now  that  the  others  are  through  it  is  about  time  for  me  to 

begin: 
I   too   having  something  to  say  to  you — the  things  maybe 

that  you  most  need  and  have  been  waiting  for:   with 
out  knowing  it,  have  been  waiting  for: 
Things   not   out   of  their   laws  and   their  books  and  their 

shows  and  their  armies: 

Things  not  out  of  their  fames  and  their  flatteries  and  elo 
quent  in  the  life  of  the  great: 
No:  but  things  out  of  hearts — things  out  of  my  heart:  things 

out  of  my  love: 
Things  out  of  the  days  I  have  lived:   things  out  of  being  a 

success  and  being  a  failure: 
Things  out  of  my  passion  and  out  of  my  stumbling  efforts 

to  see  and  to  grow: 
Such  things:   O  dear  ones:   my  very  tissue,  my  very  blood, 

my  very  inmost  unravelings  of  shame: 
Such  things,  O  dear  ones:  pouring  from  me  into  you:  sorry 

things,  glad  things,  out  of  my  faltering  days: 
Things  made  least  of:   things  I  make  most  of:   things  that 

are  brushed  aside  by  the  elect: 
These,  these,  I  bring  you,  O  dear  ones:  these  you  wait  for: 

these  you  cry  and  laugh  for: 
These    things  of    my  body   giving   up   life  for  you:    these 

things  of  my  soul  giving  up  death  for  you: 
These  things  coming  to  you  after  everything  else  has  come 

to  you, 
As  I  coming  to  you  come  only  after  everyone  else  has  come 

to  you, 


144  OPTIMOS 

Not  begging  for  favors,  not  claiming  anything  either,  just 
simply  placing  everything  I  have  at  your  feet: 

Everything  I  have,  my  adored  ones,  you  men  and  women 
who  suffer: 

Little  though  it  is,  just  everything  I  have,  answering  your 
cry:  everything  I  have: 

Something,  something,  something. 

I  too  have  something  to  say  to  you,  O  dear  ones:   I  too  have 

something  to  say: 
And  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  listen  to  me:   I  bring  that 

which  all  the  others  have  made  of  no  account: 
And  though  I  do  not  talk  in  pretty  phrases  to  suit  you  you 

will  find  me  useful  anyhow: 
It  is  no  accident  when  I  come  to  you  in  my  usual  clothes 

and  make  my  usual  speech: 

I  dont  want  to  outrage  the  others  but  I  want  to  honor  my 
self  and  you: 
And  so  I  am  satisfied  to  be  as  I  am  even  if  that  is  to  be 

very  little  indeed: 
Rather  that  than  to  be  as  some  one  else  is  even  if  that  is  to 

be  very  big  indeed: 
For  I  have  not  arrived  with  my  arms  full  and  my  heart  full 

of  nice  phrases  and  palsying  joys: 

No:  hr  from  that:  I  come  suffocated  with  love — with  sim 
ple  everyday  love: 
And  that  love  I  must  let  out — that  love  belongs  to  you  and 

I  am  here  to  deliver  it — 
Though  you  reject  me,  though  you  destroy  me,  I  come  to 

deliver  that  love: 
You  will  take  it  or  not  as  you  choose  or  as  you  must,  I  am 

here  to  deliver  it: 
To  deliver  it  in  new  poems,  in  new  scriptures  and  in  new 

trades, 


OPTIMOS  145 

Putting  away  all  the  barbarisms  to  make  room  for  this  sim 
ple  charge  out  of  my  tortured  dream: 

To  deliver  my  love  to  you — to  deliver  myself:  my  body, 
my  soul — to  deliver  them: 

I  too  have  something  to  say  to  you. 


YOU   CANNOT   DECEIVE   ME 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  bring  me  your  songs — 

I  am  not  deceived  by  your  rhymes  and  your  formulas, 

I  am  not  deceived  by  your  worship  of  the  masters  and  the 

traditions: 

I  see  that  after  all  your  songs  do  not  sing, 
I  see  that  after  all  your  songs  are  counterfeit  songs, 
You  cannot  resurrect  your  dead  soul  in  the  rhythms  of  a 

false  beauty: 
There  is  death  in  your  songs — it  looks  at  me  with  staring 

eyes. 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  are  God: 
am  not  deceived  when  I  see  the  evil  of  God, 
'am  not  deceived  when  I  see  the  cruelty  of  God, 

!   am  not  deceived  when  I  see  the  hypocrisy  of  God, 
am  not  deceived  when  I  see  the  godlessness  of  God: 
am  not  deceived,  I  follow  the  compensating  trail, 

After  every  journey  I  arrive  beyond  God  at  God's  foothold. 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  are  the  virtuous  of  the 

world — 
I  have  tried  your  virtues  by  virtue  and  found  they  would  not 

answer  the  cries  of  the  lost. 
You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  are  the  vicious  of  the 

world — 


146  OPTIMOS 

I  see  something  back  of  your  vice  which  purifies  and  per 
suades  me. 

Do  you  think  I  am  led  off  the  inevitable  scent  by  the  cry  of 
injustice? 

Do  you  think  I  wilfully  lose  myself  in  the  tangle  of  in 
iquity? 

I  dig  my  fingers  in  the  ground  and  pull  up  the  roots  and  I 
see  that  they  are  all  sound. 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  may  be  contrary  among 

men: 
I   take   the   nebulous  bad  deed  and  fashion  it  into  a  good 

world. 
Do  you  think  I  do  not  see  the  hand  that  will  save  back  of 

the  hand  that  will  damn? 
Do  you  not  think  I  can  feel  that  life  answers  death  every 

time? 

Yes,  life  answers  death  every  time — 
The  flower  answers  the  seed  every  time, 
The  roof  answers  the  foundation  every  time, 
The  good  answers  the  bad  every  time, 
Success  answers  failure  every  time, 
Justice  answers  injustice  every  time, 
Gladness  answers  sorrow  every  time. 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  tie  yourselves  to  the 
ground: 

All  mounts  up  and  up  and  up  forever — without  resistance 
up  and  up: 

A  louder  cry  of  good  always  answers  the  loudest  cry  of  evil. 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  prepare  the  world  for  sor 
row, 

You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  prepare  the  world  for  in 
justice, 


OPTIMOS  147 

You  cannot  deceive  me,   you  who  prepare  the  world   for 

dishonor  and  death, 
You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  say  love  will  not  finally 

count, 
You  cannot  deceive  me,  you  who  prepare  for  retreat  and 

surrender. 

I  do  not  prepare  for  retreat  and  surrender — 
I  prepare  the  world's  joy  for  your  sorrow, 
I  prepare  the  world's  justice  for  your  injustice, 
I  prepare  the  world's  honor  and  life  for  your  dishonor  and 

death, 
I  prepare  the  world  for  love  that  will  finally  count  in  place 

of  the  love  that  will  not  finally  count, 
I  prepare   the  world   for  eternal  advance   and  conquest   in 

place  of  retreat  and  surrender: 
That  is  what  it  means  when  you  are  shocked  by  the  noise  I 

make  and  puzzled  by  the  words  I  speak, 
That  is  what  it  means  when  I  say  that  you  cannot  deceive 

me. 


WHO  SHALL  GIVE  THAT    HOUR  TO  WORDS? 

Who  shall  give  that  hour  to  words? 

Who   shall   come   from   the   closet   and    give    its   prayer  to 

words  ? 
Who  shall  come  from  the  bed  of  the  bride  and  give  its 

heaven  to  words? 
Who  shall  come  from  the  wrestle  of  self  with  self  and  give 

the  battle  to  words? 
Who  shall   love  and  despair  or  love  and  believe  and  give 

despair  and  belief  to  words? 
Who  shall  drag  the  heart  to  the  surface  by  words  and  leave 

it  there  to  die? 


148  OPTIMOS 

Who  shall  tear  the  root  from  the  earth  and  expect  the  tree 

to  live? 
Who  shall  give  that  hour  to  words? 

When  tried  by  the  test  of  words  life  is  bound  to  fail: 

The  songs  tried  by  the  test  of  words  no  longer  sing, 

The  picture  tried  by  the  test  of  words  loses  all  light  and 
shade, 

The  skill  of  the  worker  tried  by  the  test  of  words  is  dead 
and  inert, 

The  lofty  mountains  tried  by  the  test  of  words  sink  to  dead 
levels, 

The  great  men  tried  by  the  test  of  words  are  lost  in  the 
jostling  crowd, 

The  affections  tried  by  the  test  of  words  shiver  in  the  out 
door  cold: 

When  tried  by  the  test  of  words  life  is  bound  to  fail. 

I  cry  to  life  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:    Run! 

I  cry  to  the  poet  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:     Go  back 

to  your  poem! 
I  cry  to  the  singer  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:  Go  back 

to  your  song! 
I  cry  to  the  lover  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:   Go  back 

to  your  love! 
I  cry  to  the  artist  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:  Go  back 

to  your  art! 

The  test  of  words  kills,  forever  kills: 
Nothing  survives  the  test  of  words,  not  the  smallest  particle 

of  life: 
I  cry  to  life  when  tried  by  the  test  of  words:  Run! 

Words  betray,  words  are  stained  red  with  precious  human 
blood: 


OPTIMOS  149 

Words  lure  you  to  adventure  and  then  abandon  you  in  the 

sight  of  triumph, 
Words  promise  you  beautiful  results  and  abandon  you  in  the 

sight  of  heaven, 
Words  promise  you  love  and  abandon  you  in  the  sight  of 

fruition, 
Words  promise  you  heroism  and  abandon  you  in  the  sight 

of  the  battle, 
Words  promise  you  worship  and  abandon  you  in  the  sight 

of  the  shrine, 
Words  promise  you  justice  and  abandon  you  in  the  sight  of 

the  commune: 
Words  betray,  words  are  stained  red  with  precious  human 

blood. 

Words  that  fall  short  of  life: 

The  words  of  the  book  that  fall  short  of  the  book, 

The  words  of  love  that  fall  short  of  love, 

The  words  of  simple  speech  falling  short  of  the  simplest 
speech, 

Always  lagging  behind,  always  coming  along  late, 

Always  claiming  the  booty,  always  clamoring  for  the  re 
ward — 

Words  not  capital,  only  the  tables  of  capital: 

Words  that  fall  short  of  life. 

Words,  words,  forever  the  clamor  of  words: 

Words    are    but    signatures    with    which    life    declares    its 

humors, 
Words  may  run  the  errands  of  life,  working  for  the  wages 

of  life, 

Words  never  lead  the  soul,  words  always  follow  the  soul, 
Words  are  the  appeal  and  the  record  but  life  is  the  hand 

that  writes. 


150  OPTIMOS 

Are  you  afraid  of  words?   do  you  shrink  before  the  militant 

array  of  words? 
Do  not  be  awed  by  words,  do  not  retreat  before  words  or 

surrender  to  words, 
Words  are  only  words — you  can  do  without  them,  you  can 

do  with  them, 
Words  are  only  words — they  could  not  do  without  you,  they 

can  only  do  with  you: 
Words,  words,  forever  the  clamor  of  words. 

Who  shall  give  that  hour  to  words? 

That  hour  of  the  last  confession  of  the  soul  to  the  soul? 
That  hour  of  the  last  surrender  of  the  flesh  to  the  flesh? 
That  hour  of  holiest  resolution  when  words  have  come  into 

court  and  confessed  words  bankrupt? 
That  hour   of    consummating    love    when   love    withholds 

nothing  from  love? 
That  hour  of  confirming  reverence  when  all  the  body  and 

all  the  soul  of  man  is  prostrate  before  the  lordship  of 

life? 
That  hour  that  you  know,  that   I  know,    that  words  can 

never  know? 
That  hour  of  the  ripeness  of  fruit  and  of  those  who  freely 

eat? 
That  crowning  hour  of  ecstasy  in  which  lovers  stand  in  the 

fullest  light  of  passion  and  possession: 
Who  shall  give  that  hour  to  words? 


MY   PLAIN   SONG   IS   NOT   HEARD 

My  plain  song  is  not  heard: 

It  lifts  its  simple  cadence  in  love  and  benediction, 

It  travels  the  usual  ways  in  the  usual  dress  of  men — 


OPTIMOS  151 

Like  the  river  it  keeps  to  its  natural  course  and  is  not  re 
marked, 

And  like  the  clouds  it  is  driven  here  and  there  obediently 
to  its  law — 

But  the  masters  pass  it  by  hearing  nothing  or  resenting 
what  they  hear, 

And  the  echoers  of  the  masters  pass  it  by  because  the  mas 
ters  ignore  or  reject  the  unaccustomed  note, 

And  so  though  it  does  not  stop  singing  it  sings  mainly  to 
itself 

And  is  joyful  within  itself  and  sufficient  and  looks  for  no 
return. 

And  yet  my  song  is  heard  because  I  hear  it  with  my  own 

ears, 
And  it  is  answered  because  I  respond  to  it  in  my  days  and 

nights  of  love, 
And  it  flies  far  because  it  is  pledged  to  keep  up  with  my 

ideals, 
And  it  sings  true  because  it  adds  my  laughter  to  my  tears  in 

one  total  of  joy, 

And  that  is  enough  because  honesty  is  always  enough, 
And    that   is  enough  because   not  being  known  is  always 

enough, 

And  so  though  I  sing  forever  and  I  alone  hear  my  song 
I  am  audience  enough  and  I  cheer  my  journey  with  sweet 

acclaim. 

Did  I  say  no  one  hears  my  song? 

I  guess  I  should  not  say  that:  my  song  too  has  its  answerers, 

But  my  answerers  are  not  priests  who  make  the  creeds  of 

song, 

Nor  are  they  the  sleek  or  the  comfortable  or  the  wary: 
They  are  the  people  who  are  as  plain  as  my  song, 


152  OPTIMOS 

They  are  the  average  men  and  women  who  do  not  rate 
themselves  very  high: 

They  hear  me,  a  few  of  them,  and  take  me  to  heart — 

They  catch  up  my  words  and  pass  them  around  and  make 
friends  of  them. 

The  man  who  is  picking  coal  in  a  mine — he  listens,  he 
hears  some  echo  underground,  he  cant  account  for  it: 

The  woman  tending  a  loom  is  startled  by  my  familiar  sa 
lute:  she  stops  her  loom  to  make  sure  of  my  message: 

The  engineer  in  his  place  in  the  train  dashing  on  feels 
himself  mysteriously  summoned: 

The  mother  worried  by  her  small  children  halts  in  the  mid 
dle  of  a  sentence  to  catch  me  as  I  pass: 

I  sound  up  and  down  the  streets  my  simple  cry  of  aspira 
tion: 

Heads  are  pushed  out  of  windows  to  see  who  I  am  and  why 
I  call: 

The  little  boys  playing  marbles  recognize  and  acknowledge 
me  and  go  on  with  their  game  whistling  and  happy: 

So  it  seems  that  after  all  there  are  some  reasons  for  my  song, 

And  though  no  one  could  say  why  some  do  faintly  hear  and 
gladly  listen: 

The  unlettered  hear  and  listen  and  slaves  in  distress  hear 
and  listen, 

The  wronged  hear  and  derelicts  who  hope  for  better  times 
hear  and  listen, 

And  I  who  am  not  accepted  by  teachers  who  give  out  prizes 
and  diplomas, 

And  I  who  am  not  invited  to  shed  luster  on  state  occasions 
with  my  song, 

I  am  hailed  as  the  voice  of  populations  which  but  for  me 
would  go  unnamed, 

I  am  hailed  as  the  loyal  witness  of  improved  codes  and 
juster  laws, 


OPTIMOS  153 

I  am  hailed  as  the  courier  and  promise  of  social  regenera 
tion: 

I  whom  nobody  hears,  I  whom  a  few  gladly  hear, 

Wandering  between  houses  and  across  fields  and  hills  sing 
ing  my  songs  the  best  I  can, 

Not  worried  so  long  as  I  make  use  of  my  own  voice  and 
follow  my  own  feet, 

Drilled  not  by  schools  and  traditions  but  in  the  stern  clash 
of  revolt, 

I,  not  remembered,  not  forgotten,  treated  as  an  alien,  yet 
haunting  the  world  with  my  rhythms, 

Lavish  on  the  crowd  the  richest  treasure  of  time. 

The  President  sits  high  in  the  state  and  does  not  hear  me, 
The  general  tearing  about  on  horseback  issuing  noisy  orders 

to  his  troops  does  not  hear  me, 
The  professor  teaching  dead  arts  to  his  live  classes  does  not 

hear  me, 
The  editor  taking  the  lead  in  following  public  opinion  does 

not  hear  me, 
The  merchant  and  the  lawyer  who  mix  best  with  worst  in 

barter  and  logic  do  not  hear  me, 
And  so  for  all  the  great  and  all  the  prosperous  I  would  go 

unheard, 

But  the  tramp  dusty  and  tired  in  the  road — he  hears  me, 
But  the  workman  wronged  and  browbeaten  at  his  toil — he 

hears  me, 
But  the  poorly  clothed  people  and  people   underfed — they 

hear  me, 
But  the  dreaming  boy  and  girl  badly  starting  out  in  life — 

they  hear  me, 
But   I   who   listen  and  am   so   much   in  love  with  my  own 

voice — I  hear  myself, 
And  all  that  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  enough, 


154  OPTIMOS 

No  matter  for  the  applause  of  office  and  grandeur  seems  to 

me  to  be  quite  enough, 

The  sufferers  and  the  humble  hearing  me  quite  enough, 
And  I  hearing  myself  quite  enough, 
Though  as  I  match  my  fate  with  the  fate  of  the  chosen 
My  plain  song  is  not  heard. 


THE   SAVERS   OF  WORDS   HAVE   SAID 

The  sayers  of  words  have  said  the  last  word: 

They  have  shut  the  doors,  they  have  closed  the  shutters, 

they  have  put  out  the  lights: 
The  sayers  of  words  have  said:    Now  there  shall  be   no 

more  speech,  now  the  world  may  sleep. 

1  come  in  the  dead  of  its  night  and  challenge  the  world  to 
meet  a  new  day: 

I  say  I  the  waker  have  come  to  start  where  the  sleepers  left 
off: 

I  make  a  great  noise,  I  arouse  the  world  to  the  turmoil  of 
the  busy  streets, 

I  bring  the  world  fresh  sorrow  and  fresh  joy — it  must  drink 
of  both  to  the  full: 

I  will  not  let  the  last  word  pass  forever  and  forever, 

I  will  meet  the  last  word  with  a  first  word  forever  and  for 
ever: 

Up,  dear  world,  there  is  more  for  you  to  do! 

Yes,  dear  world,  there  is  more  for  you  to  do: 

Let  the  sayers  of  words  sleep,  let  the  last  word  rest  in  its 

coffin — we  will  do  without  them. 
Have  all  the  trees  been  planted  in  the  ground?    I  will  plant 

more  trees. 


OPTIMOS  155 

Has  all  the  love  of  the  world  been  told  about?     I  will  tell 

about  more  love. 

I  do  not  quarrel  with  those  who  have  stopped,  I  only  keep  on: 
I  see  that  I  can  do  over  again  all  that  has  been  done  and 

more  too, 

I  see  that  I  am  not  barren — that  I  may  be  as  good  a  begin 
ning  as  any, 
I  see  that  it  would  be  ridiculous  if  Socrates  and  Jesus  came 

for  something  and  I  came  for  nothing, 
I  see  that  the  whole  purpose  of  the  world  would  be  defeated 

if  the  last  word  of  the  dead  sayers  of  words  was  of 

more  importance  than  the  first  word  of  a  living  sayer 

of  words: 
Therefore  I  go  about  my  business  with  great  serenity  of 

spirit, 
In  the  midst  of  the  jeers  of  the  crowd  and  the  contempt  of 

authorities  go  about  calm  and  convinced  of  myself, 
In  the  face  of  currents  that  set  the  other  way  stick  to  my 

course  sure  of  the  successful  issue, 
In  the  teeth  of  advice  keep  sweetly  to  the  path  of  my  own 

counsel, 
When  my  friends  are  afraid  of  me  and  my  parents  tell  me 

they  are  sorry  they  gave  me  birth  and  I  am  alone,  oh 

so  much  alone,  on  the  earth,  go  about  in  great  comfort 

of  conviction. 
Shall  I  give  up  because  the  dead  sayers  of  words  have  given 

up? 
Now  is  the  time  for  me  to  be  steadfast  in  the  loyalties  of 

the  living  sayer  of  words. 

I  hear  the  lesson  that  is  taught  but  the  lesson  does  not  teach 

me, 
I  do  not  take  my  lesson  from  the  book  that  is  handed  me 

by  the  teacher: 


156  OPTIMOS 

They  all  tell  me  to  look  and  listen  back,  so  I  may  see  life 

and  hear  life  in  the  visions  of  the  dead  sayers  of  words. 
The  guide  loses  his  place  among  the  graves  of  the  dead: 
I  am  left  alone  with  the  problem — left  alone  to  learn  the 

lesson  in  the  quick  of  the  voyage. 
I  do  not  look  back — I  look  around,  the  passion  of  my  daily 

life  possesses  me: 
I  do  not  listen  back — I  hear  words  spoken  by  living  lips  as 

words  have  never  been  spoken  by  men  before: 
I  call  my  companions,  I  am  heard,  we  meet  and  embrace. 

The  world  sleeps  deep,  the  world  sleeps  late: 

The  sayers  of  words  who  have  said  the  last  word — they  are 

closed  forever  in  their  own  house  by  their  own  hands: 
I  have  gone  to  meet  the  dawn,  I  am  crying  the  cry  of  the 

first  word: 

The  world  will  hear  me  in  time  and  not  complain: 
The  sleepers  may  growl  but  the  wakers  will  welcome  me 

gladly. 

Has  all  been  said  to  the  day  that  is  gone? 
All  has  been  said:  yes.      Shall  I  then  be  silent  forever? 
No:  I  will  be  ready  to  say  it  all  over  again  to  the  day  that 

is  about  to  break: 
All  the  justice  and  love,  all  the   ideals  and  dreams,  over 

again: 
Say  it  with  the  vehemence  and  faith  of  the  first  word:  say 

it  again  and  again  until  the  noonday  hears  and  acknowl 
edges  me. 

The  sayers  of  words  have  said  the  last  word: 

They  have  shut  the  doors,  they  have  closed  the  shutters, 

they  have  put  out  the  lights: 
The  sayers  of  words  have  said:  Now  there  shall  be  no  more 

speech,  now  the  world  may  sleep. 


OPTIMOS  157 

I  come  In  the  dead  of  its  night  and  challenge  the  world  to 
meet  a  new  day. 


THAT   IS  WHAT   THE   SONG  MEANT  TO    ME 

That  is  what  the  song  meant  to  me: 

It  translated  the  language  of  my  own  heart  back  to  my  heart 
again, 

It  translated  the  language  of  my  own  soul  back  to  my  soul 
again, 

It  made  my  meanings  clear  to  myself  when  I  thought  I  was 
lost  in  the  mazes  of  my  own  incapacity, 

It  was  melody  doing  the  work  which  reason  had  failed  to 
do  and  logic  had  failed  to  do, 

It  was  that  thing  in  me  being  at  last  said  which  for  so  long 
had  refused  to  speak  in  its  own  behalf. 

The  leaf  of  the  tree  that  was  blown  by  the  wind  said  to  the 
wind: 

You  have  told  me  the  meanings  of  myself  as  I  could  not 
tell  them  alone. 

The  wave  of  the  sea  that  was  hurried  up  the  shore  said  to 
the  shore: 

You  have  told  me  the  meanings  of  myself  as  I  never  could 
have  told  them  alone. 

I  heard  the  song,  it  visited  me  in  sacred  places: 

The  song  danced  itself  in  glad  echoes  through  the  last  in 
timacies  of  my  soul, 

The  song  dirged  itself  in  deep  sorrow  through  the  farthest 
centers  of  my  spirit: 

The  song  meant  one  thing  to  me  when  I  hated, 

The  song  meant  one  thing  to  me  when  I  loved: 

Satan  came  to  me  in  a  song  and  appointed  a  day  for  lamen 
tation, 


158  OPTIMOS 

God  came  to  me  in  a  song  and  appointed  a  day  for  praise. 

The  song  meant  to  me  that  which  I  meant  to  myself: 

When  I  mean  ugliness  to  myself  the  song  is  ugly, 

When  I  mean  beauty  to  myself  the  song  is  beautiful: 

I  have  killed  life  in  a  song  and  thrown  dirt  into  its  grave, 

I  have  resurrected  life  in  a  song  and  sent  it  perfected  into 

the  ceaseless  future. 

The  song  is  not  for  itself — oh!  not  for  itself! 
The  song  is  not  for  the  instruments  of  the  great  orchestra — 

oh  not  for  them: 
The  song  is  for  me — just  for  me — as  I  sit  in  the  great  hall 

in  the  crowd  and  listen, 

It  is  addressed  just  to  me — to  a  single  person — to  me. 
The  man  who  wrote  it  away  somewhere  in  another  world 

back  a  day  or  two  in  another  time, 

Wrote  it  for  me,  prophetically  singling  me  out  by  an  in 
stinct  to  be  his  auditor  and  incorporate  his  song  in  my 
life. 

What  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

I  crossed  the  river  in  a  boat:   what  did  the  song  mean  to 

me? 
I   met  a  woman   I   love  on  the   street:    what   did  the  song 

mean  to  me? 
I    took   a   baby    in  my  arms,  it    looked  up   in  my  face  and 

cooed:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 
I  sunk  money  in  the  market,  we  gambled  and  I  lost:  what 

did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

I   was  a  revolutionist,    I   fought  on  the   barricades  for  lib 
erty:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 
I  starved  in  a  garret  trying  to  be  faithful  to  my  work:  what 

did  the  song  mean  to  me? 
I    grieved  my    friends,  I    was  an  outcast,    my  words  were 

sin  to  the  scornful:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 


OPTIMOS  159 

I  was  a  criminal  in  the  dock,  they  found  me  guilty,  I  was 
sent  to  jail:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

God  the  father  up  somewhere  called  to  me  the  son  down 
here,  I  answered  yes:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

In  the  walk  of  heaven  and  the  walk  of  hell,  in  all  contrasts 
of  loss  and  gain:  what  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

My  way  was  dark  with  the  darkness  of  its  sloth:  what  did 
the  song  mean  to  me? 

My  way  was  sunny  with  the  sunshine  of  busy  service:  what 
did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

I  stand  awed  before  my  own  unanswerable  questions,  wor 
shiping  much,  saying  nothing: 

What  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

What  did  the  song  mean  to  me? 

The  song  did  not  mean  something  played  by  the  master's 

orchestra, 
The  song  did  not  mean  something  which  came  to  me  off 

the  baton  of  the  leader, 

The  song  did  not  mean  the  grand  harmonies  of  the  com 
poser — and  they  were  very  grand, 
The  song  did  not  mean  something  the  critics  told  me  about 

in  a  book, 
The  song  did  not  mean  something  I  read  of  the  song  in  the 

life  of  its  author, 
The  song  did  not  mean  a  faraway  dream  of  the  man   in 

whose  name  it  is  put  on  the  programs: 
The  song  meant  my  life — the  daily  round  of  my  innocent 

and  guilty  life, 
The  song  meant  my  life — the  common  dirt  out  of  which 

my  life  springs  on  the  way  to  God. 
The  summoner  when  he  wrote  it  knew  well  enough  that 

there  would  be  just  such  a  man  as  me  around  to  hear 

and  answer, 


160  OPTIMOS 

He  saw  my  face,  he  felt  my  faster  beating  heart,  he  counted 

my  hurrying  pulse, 
He  skipped  all   the  years  between  and  all  the  people  and 

came  straight  to  me, 
In  all  the  surrender  and  all  the  conquest  of  my  life  came 

straight  to  me, 

So  that  as  I  sat  there,  just  one  person  in  the  big  crowd, 
So  that  as  I  sat  there,  just  in  an  ordinary  seat,  looking  like 

all  the  rest, 
He  came  to  me  direct,  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm,  kissed  my 

lips  with  his  lips  and  went  away  complacent  and  up 
lifted, 
Joyously  confessing  that  the  song  and  the  master  of  the  song 

had  met  and  paid  their  immortal  debt. 

The  leader  dropped  his  baton  for  the  last  time — the  orches 
tra  was  adjourned,  the  song  was  still,  the  compact  be 
tween  us  was  sealed  forever. 

I  sat  alone  in  the  crowd,  I  withdrew  from  the  great  hall 

with  my  precious  burden: 
That  is  what  the  song  meant  to  me. 


WHILE   THE    ORCHESTRA    PLAYS   YOU, 
MIGHTY    SYMPHONY 

While  the  orchestra  plays  you,  mighty  symphony, 

While  the  masters  and  critics  are  debating  what  you  mean, 

I  stand  here  and  there  listening  and  I  say  nothing. 

I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  but  I  like  you — 

You  fill   me  with   life  and  I   cannot  explain  life  but  I  am 

satisfied. 
(Or  do  I  fill  you  with  life  and  is  that  the  secret)? 


OPTIMOS  161 

I  do  not  know  that  I  would  be  much  better  off,  or  any,  if  I 
could  tell  what  you  mean: 

I  have  such  joy  in  you  I  do  not  ask  the  meaning  of  joy, 

I  receive  such  inspiration  from  you  I  do  not  ask  the  mean 
ing  of  inspiration. 

I  know  that  the  sun  is  bountiful  but  I  also  know  that  you 
are  bountiful: 

The  sun  up  there  in  the  heavens  is  hot  with  fire — but  the 
fire  is  not  the  meaning  of  the  sun, 

Your  soul  is  ablaze  with  passion — but  passion  is  not  the 
meaning  of  your  soul: 

Back  of  all  meanings  I  can  see  with  the  quarrelers  is  the 
meaning  of  peace  which  eludes  definition, 

Back  of  the  meaning  of  the  day  lit  by  the  sun  is  another 
meaning  which  lights  the  sun  itself. 

I  do  not  understand  you — you  do  not  come  to  me  to  explain 
and  I  ask  nothing: 

I  do  not  seem  to  want  to  know — I  seem  to  find  my  ignor 
ance  knowledge  enough 

While  the  masters  and  critics  debate  and  the  orchestra 
plays  you,  mighty  symphony. 


THE   GREAT    POETS    REVEALED 

The  great  poets  revealed  the  confidences  of  the  muse, 
The  great  musicians   made   melodious  the  harsh  accents  of 

the  quarreling  world, 
The  great  orators  were  lips  to  the  betrayed  humanities  and 

converted  dead  saws  and  axioms   into   sweet  cries  for 

justice, 
The  great  painters  turned  sorrow  and  gladness  into  color 

and  rallied  upon  the  dead  canvas  the  dispersed  dreams 

of  defeat, 


162  OPTIMOS 

The  great  doctors  rescued  life  from  disease, 

The  great  mothers  died  for  their  thankless  and  thankful 
children, 

The  great  soldiers  perished  in  the  madness  of  battle  believ 
ing  that  righteousness  found  its  seal  in  their  blood, 

The  great  children  were  faithful  to  the  decrepit  and  ac 
cepted  sweetly  the  parent  tyrannies, 

The  great  reformers  put  all  earth  in  their  fires  and  purified  it. 

Before  all  these  my  lifted  voice  confessed  my  humiliation, 

Towards  all  these  I  cried  for  busy  men  to  stop  from  worka 
day  slaveries  and  look, 

I  acclaimed  their  names  everywhere,  I  took  all  other  words 
and  deeds  away  and  left  only  theirs: 

So  had  they  convinced  me,  so  had  they  fixed  in  the  acci 
dental  day  the  stars  of  their  destinies. 

But  after  my  satisfied  heart  had  grown  strong  doing  this 
penance, 

I  myself,  reincarnated,  discovered  my  own  renown — 

Heard  great  poems,  songs,  orations,  more  piercing,  unde 
niable,  competing  within  for  province, 

The  painters  mixing  immortal  colors  out  of  my  personal 
experience,  the  doctors  healing,  the  darling  mothers 
patient  to  the  end,  and  soldiers  heroic,  children  filial 
and  reformers  prophetic: 

These  mine,  fragments  of  me,  voicing  me,  expressing  the 
frame  my  body  and  the  love  my  soul, 

These,  not  greater  or  less,  but  mine,  not  seeking  by  com 
parison  the  gifts  of  the  judge, 

These,  not  great  to  the  world,  not  great  to  me,  but  fitting 
me  better  than  the  great, 

These,  demanding  the  prior  right  and  the  final  word. 


TO    YOU,    GOING    OR 
COMING,  O  WOMAN 


You  shrink  affrighted  when  I  boldly  strike  the    strings  of   your   own 

heart  which  you  have  always  feared  to  strike  for  yourself — for  that 

is  all  that  I  have  done  : 

I  have  heard  that  melody  in  you  which  you  have  not  heard  in  yourself, 
I  have  listened  awed :  I  have  not  dared  until  now  to  say  anything  lest 

speech  might  somehow  jar  the  song  you  unknowing  poured  into 

my  treasuring  soul : 
Now  you  are  prepared  for  yourself  and  being  prepared  for  yourself  are 

prepared  for  others : 
Therefore  we  may  travel  the  round  earth  together  and  make  of  all  the 

scattered  musical  threads  one  strand, 
Evoking  the  majestic  choral. 


A  little  woman  with  a  little  truth,  a  little  woman  only  a  few  feet  high, 

triumphant,  lights  the  way: 
A  vast  state  with  a  vast  lie,  a  vast  state  filling  the  space  between  t.vo 

oceans,  defeated,  blocks  the  way: 

A  little  dream  with  a  little  torch  flames  across  the  earth  forever: 
A  vast  obstruction  with  a  vast  mistake,  standing  before   it,  throws  a 

shadow  for  a  day. 


TO   YOU,    GOING   OR     COMING,    O   WOMAN 

To  you,  going  or  coming,  O  woman,  I  pass  the  key  of  love: 
Take  it:  it  will  open  all  doors:  go  where  you  choose: 
I  put  no  bounds  on  the  privilege  of  love. 
I  do  not  make  you  pretty  speeches  or  flatter  you  with  lying 

poems: 
I  may  be  rather  brusque  with  you  and  you  may  not  like  my 

manners  at  all. 
That  wont  hurt:   the  chief  thing  is  subserved:   I  like  you:  I 

bequeath  freedom  to  you. 
And  that,  it  seems  to  me,  is  better  than  all  the  humbug 

rhymes  of  poets, 
And  that,  it  seems  to  me,  is  more  honor  to  woman  than 

any  amount  of  verbal  adoration — 
And  maybe  has  more  art  in  its  truth  than  the  polishers  of 

phrases  would  admit. 
I   dont  go  down  on  my  knees  to  you — I  meet  you  face  to 

face — 
And  the  kisses  of  your  dear  lips  are  not  goddess  nectars  to 

me  but  the  precious  gifts  of  a  simple  comrade. 

There  is  that  about  you,  O  woman,  which  gives  and  takes 

life  with  prodigal  unconcern: 
You  blossom  and  flower  and  give  yourself  to  man  and  keep 

back  nothing — 
When  you  give  you  give  all  and  you  regret  nothing  that  you 

give, 
When  you  love  you  love  all  and  you  suspect  nothing  that 

you  love, 
And  though  a  man  is  richer  than  all  the  planets  because  of 

what  you  bestow  upon  him, 
165 


166  OPTIMOS 

He    is   poorer  than    twenty    bankrupt  nothings  because  of 

what  you  pay  him  as  a  tax. 

I  will  not  go  back  on  you,  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say: 
It  is  easy  to  address  deft  speeches  to  you  and  amorous  songs, 
But  I  come  to  you  when  you  call — come  with  my  body, 

come  with  my  soul, 
And  I  let  you  alone  when  you  reject  me — in  flesh  and  spirit 

let  you  alone. 

I  dont  want  to  lose  you:  I  love  you:  but  you  will  not  stay: 
I  would  not  send  you  off,  I  would  not  hold  you  here: 
What  love  cannot  retain  cannot  be  retained — must  freely 

depart. 

You  go  where  your  love  goes:  where  else  should  you  go? 
And    your  sacred  body  so   softly  aloof  to  the  touch  goes 

where  love  goes:  otherwise  it  goes  to  hell. 
You  leave:   my  eyes  follow  you:  yet  I  would  not  curb  the 

impulse  that  leads  you  elsewhere: 
If  love  cannot  hold  you  here  how  could  a  legislature  or  a 

document  hold  you  here? 

Woman,  I  set  you  free: 

I  do  not  hold  you  by  any  bond, 

No  book  put  in  the  scales  against  you  weighs  an  ounce, 

Any  custom  quoted  to  scare  you  should  be  laughed  at: 

No  father  creed  can  stand  in  place  of  the  child  ideal. 

They  are  afraid  that  if  you  go  right — by  love's  right — the 

world  will  go  wrong, 
That  if  you  live  according  to  love  something  will  happen  to 

property  and  order. 

They  call  upon  you  to  come  back — to  be  like  the  rest: 
To  lie,  conform,  sell  your  body  out  for  cash,  like  the  rest, 

and  be  usual  and  genteel. 
Now,  if  love  has  grown  imperious  I  will  make  it  reasonable 

again: 


OPTIMOS  167 

And  the  body,  if  it  behaves  badly  to  the  soul,  must  be  re 
minded  of  its  place  and  not  go  beyond — 

And  the  soul,  if  it  behaves  badly  to  the  body,  must  be 
reminded  of  its  place  and  not  go  beyond. 

To  you,  going  or  coming,  O  woman: 

A  man  can  only  say  a  few  things  to  you  and  then  be  still — 

A  few  man  things  which  may  fall  short  of    the  woman's 

mark: 

But  the  man  can  say  he  loves  and  let  you  go, 
And  the  man  can  help  you  to  go  as  he  irresistibly  attracted 

you  when  you  came, 
And  he  can  now  efface  himself  and  let  love  alone  arbitrate 

the  solemn  issue, 
And  keep  the  stars   out  of    the  way  and  the  sun  and  the 

ocean  immensities  to  give  you  room  to  be  free: 
That  is   what  I  feel  like  saying  to  you,  sternly,  tenderly, 

without  trying  to  be  smart  or  ornamental: 
To  you,  going  or  coming,  O  woman! 


BEFORE   TIME  WAS   WOMAN 

Before  time  was  woman, 

She  brought  the  first  day  out  of  the  day  that  was  not  first, 

She  was  couched  in  motherhood  and  reaffirmed  in  her  child 

and  matched  to  virile  delight. 
Before  space  was  woman, 
Out  of  her  distance   came  and  habitable  worlds  and  men 

who  gave  the  earth  its  dreams. 
Forthcoming,  forthcoming, 
Always  giving  her  due  to  the  hungering  soil, 
Always  renewing  the  ever  unappeased  laws, 
Always  renowned,  yet  not  always  free, 


168  OPTIMOS 

Always  revered,  yet  not  always  respected, 

The  unaccomplished  ideal  in  her  completeness  ratified. 

Who  shall  remove  the  veil  from  woman? 

Who  shall  break  the  clouds  before  her  radiant  eyes? 

Who  shall  be  foremost  to  affront  the  dulled  senses  of  her 
ancient  slavemasters? 

Who  shall  give  woman  to  her  child,  in  free  treaty  sanc 
tioned? 

The  dream  of  woman  grants  suffrage  to  life  and  joy. 

When  you  speak  of  your  law  woman  shudders: 

When  you  speak  of  your  passion  woman  is  humbled: 

When  you  speak  of  your  duty  woman  disdains: 

When  you  speak  of  your  love  woman  loves. 

The  hand  that  removes  her  veil  will  abolish  chivalry  for 
ever: 

It  will  be  a  man's  ungloved  hand,  or  her  own,  bearing  no 
lace  or  flag. 

Though  you  worshiped  her  face  you  worshiped  it  behind  a 
cloud. 

Now  you  may  still  worship,  but  you  must  worship  as  an 
equal  born, 

Conceding  the  august  compact. 


WHAT  DO  I  MEAN  TO  YOU,  O  WOMAN, 

O  MAN? 

What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  woman,  O  man? 

It  means  much  to  me,  what  I  mean  to  you: 

It  means  most  to  me  what  I  am  to  myself,  but  it  means  no 

small  thing  to  me  what  I  am  to  you: 
And  if  I  mean  anything  good  to  myself  that  does  not  mean 

good  equally  to  you, 


OPTIMOS  169 

And  if  I   lose   the   fertile   meanings  of  all    in   the   sterile 

meanings  of  one, 
Then  I  miss  the  main  point:   then  my  soul  goes  begging: 

then  I  am  without  excuse: 
For  the  strength  of  a  man  and  the  excuse  of  a  man  is  in  his 

meanings: 
And  the  meanings  of  a  man  are   not  the  meanings  of  his 

value  to  himself  but  of  his  value  to  the  crowd: 
At  least,  that's  the  way  the  whole  matter  looks  to  me:  that's 

the  way: 
And  so  I  ask  questions  of  my  soul  and  ask  questions  of  you, 

O  woman,  O  man: 
And  much  depends  upon  what  I  answer,  what  you  answer: 

much  and  all: 
In  the  days  when  things  go  right  or  wrong,  much  depends: 

in  victory  or  defeat,    much  and  all  depends  and  must 

depend  everywhere  and  always. 

What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  woman? 

I  am  the  key  and  I  unlock  you:   I  mean  the  key  to  you,  O 

woman: 
I  have  thought  that  the  key  to  a  woman  is  a  man  zind  could 

be  nothing  else: 
I  have  thought  that  the  key  to  a  man  is  a  woman  and  could 

be  nothing  else: 
Perhaps  a  certain  woman  or  a  certain  man:   perhaps  you  or 

me: 
Perhaps  there  is  one  key  or  perhaps  there  are  many  keys: 

woman  or  women,  man  or  men: 

I  have  felt  jubilant  like  the  opener  of  life — like  the  mouth 
piece  of  sex  and  emancipation: 
As  if,  O  woman,  I  had  led  you  to  the  edge  of  a  new  world 

and  left  you  there  to  go  in  or  to  turn  back  as  you  freely 

chose: 


170  OPTIMOS 

I  dont  know  how  it  comes  about:  I  cant  explain  it  at  all:  I 

dont  feel  guilty  or  innocent:   but  that's  how  it  seems 

to  me. 
How  does  it  seem  to  you,  O  woman? — do  you  turn  back  or 

do  you  pass  joyfully  over,  O  woman? 
What  do  I  bring  you,  O  woman,  in  my  full  arms,  in  my 

full  heart? 
Is  it  something  you  want  to  throw  away  or  something  you 

want  to  keep? 
I  say  to  you,  O  you  one  woman  of  all  women — you  woman 

complete  of  my  incomplete  soul  and  body: 
I  am  the  key  to  you:   I  unlock  you:   you  go  free  from  this 

minute: 
I  alone  make  you  free — I  alone  am  competent:   now  you 

will  know  what  I  mean,  what  love  means,  what  life 

means,  what  you  yourself  mean: 
I  have  turned  the  key  in  the  lock:   the  prisoner  passes  out 

ecstatically  to  the  light  of  day: 
I  have  turned  the  key  in  the  lock:  the  prisoner  is  reprieved 

— my  beloved — the  woman:   you,  O  complete  woman: 
I  who  deliver  being  also  delivered:  I  who  give  also  taking: 

I  who  waive  all  debts  also  going  free  of  debt. 

What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  man? 

Do  I  stand  hidden  behind  phrases  passing  pretty  compli 
ments  that  lead  nowhere? 

Or  am  I  found  in  your  midst  with  a  helping  hand  going 
where  you  go? 

Wrhen  you  see  love  at  work  in  the  world  are  you  reminded 
of  me? 

When  your  little  hope  grows  suddenly  big  in  the  increasing 
light  do  you  think  of  my  prophecy? 

When  some  joy  you  never  knew  before  leaps  in  your  blood 
do  you  repeat  my  name? 


OPTIMOS  171 

When  justice  comes  to  take  the  place  of  injustice,  the 
friend  taking  the  place  of  the  enemy,  am  I  visible  to 
you? 

Much  depends  upon  that,  O  man:  much  and  all:  victory  or 
defeat: 

For  nothing  however  glorious  is  victory  if  it  fails  to  take 
you  along  with  it: 

And  nothing  however  sorrowful  is  defeat  if  it  includes  and 
is  fair  to  you. 

I  see  so  well  that  the  vastness  of  the  universe  is  not  in  end 
less  space  and  the  stars  but  in  their  meanings: 

I  see  so  well  that  my  measure  is  not  in  my  body  or  in  my 
soul  but  in  my  meanings: 

And  for  that  reason,  O  man,  I  stand  before  you  acquitted 
or  convicted, 

And  you  will  sentence  me  to  life  or  sentence  me  to  death 
according  as  my  meanings  mean  life  or  death  to  you: 

There  is  no  other  way  in  or  out:  according  as  my  mean 
ings  mean  life  or  death  to  you,  O  man! 

I  wander  on  abandoned  feet:   I  go  far  east  or  west:   I  disap 
pear  in  vanishing  distances: 
I  get  out  of  the  horizon  of  the  people:  I  pass  into  oblivion: 

I  try  to  escape  my  memories: 
But  I  have  seen  the  crowd:   I  have  looked  it  in  the  face:   I 

can  no  longer  refuse  its  cry: 
The  fear  that  drove  me  away  drags  me  back:  the  voice  that 

banished  me  recalls  me: 
So  here  I  am  again,  in  the  streets,  in  the  alleys,  choked  in 

the  stormy  stream: 
My  meanings  were  not  removed  somewhere,  in  the  woods, 

on  the  shore,  where  good  luck  forgets: 
My  meanings  were  right  here,  in  the  town,  where  the  poor 

suffer  and  die,  where  bad  luck  remembers: 


172  OPTIMOS 

My  meanings  are  not  in  the  elegant  enemic  sayso  of  books 
but  in  the  virile  vile  give  and  take  of  the  struggle: 

I  have  tried  to  drown  my  sorrows  in  words:  I  have  turned 
my  sorrows  over  to  art  and  the  dictionary: 

But  my  sorrows  are  not  less  keen:  they  dog  my  steps:  they 
forestall  my  baffled  will: 

Nothing  in  the  swing  and  the  certainty  of  the  earth  is  effi 
cient  but  love,  O  woman,  O  man! 

Words  are  not  efficient,  pictures  and  music  are  not  efficient: 
love  alone  is  efficient: 

And  so,  O  woman,  O  man,  you  will  take  my  love  and  un 
tangle  its  meanings: 

And  you  will  set  me  up  or  down  not  because  the  prosperous 
and  the  flattered  of  the  earth  take  off  their  hats  and 
their  shoes  to  me: 

You  will  set  me  up  or  down  because  the  poor  and  the  fail 
ures  of  the  earth  understand  my  brother  meanings  and 
keep  me  close  by. 

What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  woman,  O  man? 

Take  me  aside  with  you — take  me  with  you  to  some  place 

where  you  are  nearest  your  own  meanings: 
Do  not  judge  me  by  what  I  wear,  not  even  by  what  I  say: 

judge  me  by  what  I  stir  up  in  you: 
By  what  I  stir  up  in  your  body  when  your  body  is  nearest 

giving  the  body  its  due: 
By  what  I  stir  up  in  your  soul  when  your  soul  is  nearest 

giving  the  soul  its  due: 
By  what  I  stir  up  in  your  hushed  dreams  which  you  never 

have  dared  tell  to  any  confessor: 
I  stand  before  you,    O  woman,  O  man,  to  be  judged — to 

have  my  meanings  passed  upon:  to  be  sentenced  to  life 

or  death: 
What  do  I  mean  to  you,  O  woman,  O  man? 


OPTIMOS  173 

UNTIL   NOW   THE    FLESH 

Until  now  the  flesh  has  not  been  at  home  in  the  universe, 
Until  now  the  flesh  has  been  looked  upon  as  born  out  of 

wedlock, 
Until  now  the  flesh  has  been  veiled  and  quoted  against  the 

universe, 
It  has  been  obliged  to  sneak  through  the  world,  to  take  its 

chances  in  the  shadows, 
It  has  been  compelled  to  serve  and  suffer  but  has  not  been 

allowed  a  voice, 
It  was  even  the  butt  while  the  shield  of  the  spirit,  it  took 

the  blows  of  the  spirit, 
Yet  it  was  forever  forbidden,  was  forever  denied  its  rank, 

dispossessed  of  its  properties: 
The    flesh,   the    holy    flesh,   the  mother  flesh  of  man,   the 

father  flesh  of  woman, 
Clean,  washed  sacredly  clean,  in  the  infallible  economy  of 

birth. 

The  flesh  contains  the  best  of  love  and  gives  the  best  of  love, 

The  flesh  offers  itself  all,  and  first  offers  itself  and  last  offers 
itself, 

The  flesh  is  signed  for  by  the  attributes  of  heaven  and  the 
attributes  of  hell, 

The  flesh  is  the  bridgeway  by  which  the  spirit  passes  on 
ward  to  fruition, 

The  flesh  is  reverent  and  worships  when  and  where  the 
spirit  worships: 

What  would  you  give  for  the  universe  if  it  had  two  places 
for  worship? 

Where  should  the  flesh  worship  but  with  the  spirit? 

The  flesh  is  that  which  maddens  love  and  that  which  re 
strains  love. 


174  OPTIMOS 

What  did  the  flesh  ever  do  to  you  that  you  say  such  hard 

things  about  it? 
What  is  love  for  if  not  for  the  flesh  and  what  is  flesh  for  if 

not  for  love? 

They  were  afraid  to  touch  you,  flesh,  afraid  and  afraid: 

I  take  you  in  my  arms,  I  journey  the  full  journey  with  you, 
not  taking  off  a  single  step: 

If  I  could  not  honor  you  who  are  flesh  I  could  not  honor 
you  who  are  spirit, 

If  I  was  sorry  for  the  ecstasies  of  the  flesh  I  would  be  sorry 
for  the  ecstasies  of  the  spirit, 

If  I  was  to  sneak  to  the  flesh  and  ask  for  its  pleasures  in  the 
dark  I  would  sneak  to  the  spirit  and  ask  for  its  pleas 
ures  in  the  dark. 

If  a  man  touches  me  or  a  woman  touches  me  flesh  reports 

to  flesh  in  the  sacred  language  of  love: 
If  a  man  gives  me  that  which  is  wholly  his  and  mine  to 

give  and  take  or  if  a  woman  gives  me  that  which  is 

wholly  hers  and  mine  to  give  and  take, 
If  something  words  could  not  tell  about  possesses  me  and 

the  lords  god  appear  in  the  habit  of  the  flesh, 
If  something,  I  do  not  know  what,  belongs  to  me  from  you, 

O  woman, 
If  something,  I  do  not  know  what,  belongs  to  me  from  you, 

O  man, 
If  the  darling  and  imperative  flesh  assumes  the  mysterious 

errand  of  interchange, 
Shall  I  cry  out  against  the  perfecting  flesh  and  call  upon 

the  universe  to  save  the  flesh  from  itself? 

So  far  the  banished  flesh  has  not  been  at  home  in  the  uni 
verse, 


OPTIMOS  175 

Motherhood  has  not  been  at  home,  fatherhood  has  not  been 

at  home, 

The  children  playing  their  games  have  not  been  at  home, 
The  thrill  that  passes  into  me  when  I  touch  your  body  has 

not  been  at  home, 

The  kisses  of  men  and  women  have  not  been  at  home, 
The  embracings  and  longings  and  sacrificed  desires  have  not 

been  at  home, 

The  hunger  of  the  body  for  the  body  has  not  been  at  home, 
All  has  been  alien,  all  has  been  degraded  and  soiled: 
Until  now  the  flesh,  standing  up  and  accusing  the  spirit, 
Until  now  the  flesh,  coming  out  of  the  shadows,  remaining 

in  the  open,  fully  avowing  itself, 
The    flesh,    the    holy  flesh,   the  mother  flesh  of  man,   the 

father  flesh  of  woman,    . 
Records  its  inalienable  birthright. 


THE   SACRED    BODY    OF   MY   LOVE 

The  sacred  body  of  my  love, 

Equal  mate  of  an  equal  mate  in  perfect  union  blended, 

So  long  so  scorned  by  every  trifling  scoffer, 

Beaten  by  whips  of  cords  and  whips  of  tongues, 

The  outcast  wanderer  banned  by  monkish  gods  and  puritan 

men, 

Givers  so  damned,  so  blushed  about  yet  so  hungered  for, 
At  last  sets  up  for  itself  the  claim  of  noblest  origin, 
And  calls  upon  the  doubting  world  to  hear. 

O  sacred  body  of  my  love! 

Let  me  avow  you  in  words  that  will  be  understood: 
Do  not  let   me  stand  back  and  say  nothing  while  the  re- 
vilers  persecute  you. 


176  OPTIMOS 

I  do  not  come  to  you  with  pretty  words  but  with  speechless 

adoration, 
I  do  not  intimate  you  in  occult  rhythms  but  cry  out  your 

name  in  neighborly  accents: 
Do  not  mistake  my  unquailing  adhesion,  O  sacred  body  of 

my  love! 
I  am  not  veiling  you  in  disguises  of  goddesses  and  gods  and 

dim  figures  of  mythologic  lore, 
I  quote  you  in  the  lives  of  men  and  women  who  live  in  my 

own  day  and  street. 
If  I  could  be  ashamed  of  my  father  and  mother  I  could  be 

ashamed  of  you, 
And  if  I  could   be   ashamed  of  the  darling  partnership  of 

lovers  I  could  be  ashamed  of  you, 
And  if  I  could  say  the  body  is  not  equal  to  the  soul  I  would 

have  to  say  the  soul  is  not  equal  to   the  body:   I  could 

not  otherwise  understand  either: 
And   if  I  went  back  on  you,  O  sacred  body  of  my  love,  I 

would  have  to  go  back  on  you,  O  sacred  soul  of  my 

love, 

For  when  the  body  is  clean  body  and  soul  are  one  in  holi 
ness, 

And  when  the  soul  is  clean  soul  and  body  are  one  in  holi 
ness, 
And   I   can  see   no  reason  why  I  should  be  frank  about  the 

soul  arid  be  afraid  to  be  frank  about  the  body, 
For  if  either  one  is  less  worth  while  than  the  other  then 

God  has  monstrously  blundered. 
I  wash  my  mind  out  before  I  dream  anything  about  you,  O 

sacred  spirit  of  my  love, 
And  I  wash  my  mouth  out  before  I  say  anything  about  you, 

O  sacred  body  of  my  love, 
And  I  address  you,  O  my  body,  in  the  last  fond  epithets  of 

surrender  that  everybody  may  hear, 


OPTIMOS  177 

And  if  there  are  ears  to  which  the  sound  of  my  glad  ap 
proval  is  unpleasant  let  them  be  stuffed  with  ascetic 
scripture, 

For  I  am  determined  to  talk  only  in  such  a  way  as  will  not 
mislead  your  enemies, 

And  I  will  not  apologize  and  will  withdraw  nothing, 

No  more  than  I  will  apologize  for  my  dear  children  or 
withdraw  them. 

The  time  has  come  for  us  to  square  accounts  with  the  body, 
The  time  has  come  for  us  to  acknowledge  that  no  one  can 

be  honest  with  the  soul  who  is  not  honest  with  the 

body, 
And  that  if  the  universe  dont  mean  right  by  the  body  it  has 

no  chance  left  to  mean  right  by  the  soul 

I  am  tired  of  the  songs  and  philosophies  of  the  pausers  and 
sappers: 

They  have  had  their  way  long  enough — they  have  blas 
phemed  the  body  long  enough: 

Now  I  say  we  must  all  gather  ourselves  on  the  side  of  rever 
ence, 

Answering  with  a  triumphant  yes  the  questions  of  the  ardent 
blood, 

Refusing  hereafter  to  be  consigned  to  the  seedless  desert, 

Passing  with  prodigal  benefaction  through  the  passions  of 
the  flesh  to  surpassing  harvests, 

Lending  the  body  to  the  spirit  in  equal  value  for  equal  value 
bestowed. 

Let  those  who  must  shudder  over  my  bald  confession  retire: 

Let  the  mother  retire  forgetting  her  son,  and  the  son  his 
mother, 

Let  the  lover  retire  forgetting  his  beautiful  comrade, 

Let  the  fruit  retire  forgetting  the  seed  from  which  it  came, 


178  OPTIMOS 

Let  the  dear  lips  we  kiss  retire  and  the  dear  embracing 
arms, 

For  now  I  give  it  out  as  my  unalterable  resolution, 

That  the  body  shall  always  come  in  for  its  share  of  respect 
and  not  have  to  admit  impossible  sins, 

Because  somehow  when  the  best  is  said  of  the  body  better 
cannot  be  said  of  the  soul, 

And  the  man  or  woman  who  is  not  prepared  to  say  beauti 
ful  things  about  the  body  is  not  prepared  to  say  beau 
tiful  things  about  the  soul: 

O  sacred  body  of  my  love! 


WHY   SHOULD   I    HOLD    BACK,    DEAR   BODY? 

Why  should  I  hold  back,  dear  body? 

I  hear  many  voices,  dear  body,  mingling  voices  of  lust, 

And  they  do  not  tell  the  truth  about  you: 

Let  me  speak  out,  let  me  tell  the  truth,  I  will  not  make 

more  seem  less: 
Let  me  tell  what  I  see  but  let  me  avoid  the  tangled  phrases 

of  the  scholars, 

Let  me  tell  what  I  see  in  the  virile  direct  syllables  of  love: 
The  truth  about  you,  dear  body,  so  long  misunderstood: 
The  truth  about  you,  dear  body,  so  long  suborned  to  base 

uses: 
The  truth  about  you,  dear  body,  made  the  plaything  of  law 

and  license: 
Let  me  be  seen  and  listened  to — let  me  break  out  in  words 

of  praise  of  you — 

In  the  face  of  profanity  let  me  declare  you  holy, 
In  the  face  of  devils  let  me  declare  you  god. 

I  am  not  afraid  to  avow  you,  dear  body: 


OPTIMOS  179 

I  think  that  my  mother  is  in  my  words  to  give  them  ma 
ternity, 

I  think  that  my  children  are  in  my  words  to  take  them  to 
the  future, 

I  think  that  my  lovers  are  in  my  words  to  give  them  the 
seedgrains  of  sex: 

Being  so  rich,  as  you  dear  body  are  rich,  in  fulfilling  pas 
sion, 

And  succoring,  as  you  dear  body  always  succor,  the  paling 
faith  of  love: 

And  so  I  can  pour  out  my  soul  in  your  interest,  dear  body, 
holding  nothing  back, 

Bringing  to  the  flesh  its  most  exalting  suppositions. 

Dear  body,  I  take  you  into  my  confidence: 
Night  and  morning  it  is  the  same:  my  love  goes  out  to  you, 
And  in  the  unveiling  silences  my  love  goes  out  to  you, 
And  in  words  of  ingratiating  salutation  my  love  goes  out  to 

you, 
And  you  know  what  it  all  counts  up  to  and  are  glad  of  my 

love, 
And  after  I  come  to  you  and  go  you  look  for  me  to  come 

again, 
And  I   say  this  to  you,  dear  body:    I  shall  not  disappoint 

you: 

I  shall  not  be  careless  about  my  engagements  with  you: 
Men  say  that  the  contracts  of  the  body  may  be  broken  and 

no  harm  done  but  I  say  no, 
For  I  see  that  with   the  treaty  of  the  body  broken  all   is 

broken  and  love  is  banished  to  the  desert. 

I  say  to  you,  woman,  who  own  a  woman's  body: 
I  am  full  of  awe  of  you  because  I  am  able  to  respond  to 
what  you  reveal: 


180  OPTIMOS 

I  tell  myself  that  the  earth  and  life  start  and  end  in  you:  I 

tell  myself  how  conclusive  you  are. 
I  am  going  to  pour  you   into    rny  cup  until   it  is  full  and 

drink  myself  drunk  with  you, 
I  am  going  to  dive  my  deepest  into  your  sea  to  find  out  how 

much  of  ecstasy  abides  in  the  divine  currents: 
Be  kind  with  love,  dear  body,  my  darling:   you  two  cannot 

be  separated: 
Do  not  reject  love  when  love  offers  to  companion  you  on 

dangerous  journeys: 
Be  good  to   love:    do  not  undervalue  the  fraternity  of  the 

body: 
Think  what   it  means   to  acknowledge   love   and   obey   its 

summons, 
Think  what  it  means  to  recognize  your  natural  leanings  and 

hungers, 
Think  what  it  means  to  treat  your  passions  as   if  the  soul 

could  not  get  along  without  them. 
Dear  body:   you  so   long  denied  are  coming  back  to  life 

again — 

Out  of  suffering  are  coming  back  into  joy, 
Out  of  the  incomplete  are  coming  back  into  the  complete: 
Let  me  welcome  you — with  love's  kisses  welcome  you,  with 

love's  embraces  welcome  you. 

And  so  your  gospel  is  spoken,  dear  body: 
I  am  all  the  time  thinking  of  other  things  to  say  to  you, 
And  yet  there  seems  to  be  only  one  thing  to  say  to  you: 
To  say  love:  that  is  the  only  thing  to   say  to  you:   I  know 

of  nothing  else: 
To  put   love    into  the  common   air,  not   to  reserve  it   for 

special  places, 
To  light  the  very  sun   with   love  making   it  burn  with  a 

fiercer  flame, 


OPTIMOS  181 

To  tide  the  rivers  with  love  overflowing  the  farms  with  its 

excess, 
To  remind  you  of  love  when  you  forget  and  to  bless  you 

with  more  love  when  you  remember, 
To  soften  with  love  the  hard  luck  of  the  derelict  and  to 

harden  with  love  the  soft  luck  of  the  swell, 
To  make  no  yoke  or  houseling  of  love  or  quote  it  in   the 

legislature  or  the  home  against  the  body, 
To  demonstrate   love  without  shame  wherever  I   go   to  a 

woman  just  as  freely  as  to  a  man, 
To  no  longer  buy  goods  across  a  counter:  no:   to  buy  love: 

love  will  be  my  coin  and  purchase, 

To  sing  love  and  you,  dear  body,  into  my  rough  songs  in 
stead  of  velvet  tones, 
To    write    love    and    you,    dear  body,    into    my   rebellious 

poems  instead  of  conforming  rhymes. 

And  so  in  the  end  it  has  come  to  this  in  my  ripened  heart, 

dear  body: 

When  the  priest  says  God  I  will  say  Body, 
When  the  composer  says  Music  I  will  say  Body, 
When  the  poet  says  Dream  and  Rhythm  I  will  say  Body, 
When  the  seer  says  Justice  I  will  say  Body, 
So  that  you,  dear  Body,  until  now  outlawed,  will  come  into 

possession  of  what  belongs  to  you, 
Not  seizing  or  wanting  anything  that  anyone  has  the  right 

to  withhold  but  persuading  dissent  by  the  pride  of  your 

humility, 
You,  dear  Body,  grown  supreme  in  indulgence  of  lust  and 

denial  of  lust, 
You,  dear  Body,  demanding  that  I  tell  the  truth  about  your 

capacities: 
And  so  in  the  end  it  has  come  to  this  in  my  ripened  heart, 

dear  Body: 


182  OPTIMOS 

That  I  must  be  seen  and  listened  to  as  I  break  out  in  praise 

of  you,  dear  Body: 
Why  should  I  hold  back,  dear  Body? 


YOU   ARE   GOING   TO    HAVE   A    BABY 

You  are  going  to  have  a  baby: 

That  is  what  you  tell  me  and  I  listen  and  look  at,you. 

Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  that  look,  you  new  mother  in 
this  old  world? 

It  was  a  daring  challenge  for  you  to  issue  and  for  me  to 
accept, 

And  I  repeat  it  to  myself  again  and  again  to  get  its  infalli 
ble  measure. 

It  is  as  if  a  voice  out  of  the  potent  silences  had  broken  into 
words — 

As  if  God  had  said  to  me:  I'm  going  to  put  a  new  star  in 
the  sky. 

As  if  God  had  said  to  me:  I'm  going  to  make  another  sea 
for  you  to  sail  on: 

As  if  a  fresh  spring  was  to  burst  through  the  rocks  for  us  to 
drink  from: 

As  if  a  virgin  bible  was  to  be  opened  with  every  phrase  of 
it  final  truth. 

It  took  me  back  to  the  emergence  of  suns, 

It  took  me  back  to  the  first  utterances  of  religions, 

It  took  me  back  to  earliest  explorations  and  primary  pur 
poses. 

I  was  present  as  the  sower  scattered  the  seed  in  the  ground, 

I  saw  the  seed  working  its  way  to  the  harvest  fulfilling  the 
soil. 

Dear  mother!  it  is  no  mean  affair  to  have  a  baby, 

No  mean  affair  to  open  the  divine  doors  again, 


OPTIMOS  183 

No  mean  affair  to  negotiate  with  God  for  this  gift. 

Every  mother  is  the  start  of  the  universe  again, 

And  is  again  the  first  breath  of  air  and  the  first  drop  of 

water, 

And  submits  her  life  in  pawn  to  space  and  time  for  a  miracle, 
And  recalls  to  us  on  these  nearer  shores  the  farther  treasures. 
And  this  time  it  is  a  mother  my  dear  friend  and  comrade 

who  excites  my  awe, 
And  I  go  down  to  the  ground  to  her  and  swear  I  honor  her 

footprints, 
And  I  go  up  to  the  heavens  to  her  and  swear  I  worship  her 

dreamways, 

And  I  take  my  place  by  her  side  espousing  her  motherhood, 
And  bring  her  justifying  intimations  from  all  the  past  of  the 

soul. 

But,  you  mother,  my  darling  friend,  this  is  not  all: 

I  bring  you  love  and  welcome  but  this  is  not  all  I  bring: 

I  also  bring  you  warning:  I  am  terrible,  too,  in  stern  threat- 

enings: 
And  so  I  lead  you  into  the  shadow  and  tell  you  what  the 

shadow  comes  to. 

That  the  shadow  often  comes  to  more  shadow  and  destroys, 
That  the  shadow  is  poison  and  hate  and  disaster  and  propa 
gates  sorrow, 
That  the  shadow  is  over  you  because  the  sun  is  over  you  and 

that  you  can  escape  neither, 
For  the  mother  is  the  mix  of  both  and  the  child  is  the  mix 

of  both, 
And  no  sun  and  no  shadow  can  go  alone,  but  they  must  be 

mixed  right, 

And  I  stick  to  it  that  nothing  can  mix  them  right  but  love — 
That  property  cannot  mix  them  right  nor  fame  nor  the  cus 
tomary  splendors: 


184  OPTIMOS 

That  only  love  can  mix  them  right — 

The  love  of  man  for  man  and  of  a  man  for  all  men: 

That  love  alone  can  mix  them  right. 

And  so  I  say  to  you  who  are  a  beautiful  mother  and  my 
loyal  friend: 

Be  careful:  everything  tells  in  the  weave  of  this  strange 
tale: 

That  all  your  ancestors  infallibly  tell  and  all  your  compan 
ions  tell, 

That  your  mean  thought  of  your  brother  tells  and  your  open 
hand  tells, 

That  the  hard  bargain  tells  and  the  jealous  thought  tells, 

That  what  the  father  has  foully  done  in  business  tells  for 
foul  in  the  mother  womb, 

That  your  denied  loves  tell  for  denial  and  your  slave  duties 
for  slavery, 

That  the  dinner  you  eat  while  others  starve  tells  for  starva 
tion, 

That  all  the  wrong  and  right  of  the  past  tells,  no  matter 
how  far  back, 

And  that  the  wrong  and  right  of  the  day  you  live  in  tells, 
no  matter  whose  wrong  and  right, 

And  that  your  share  in  the  social  guilt  tells  and  tells  for 
guilt  in  the  waiting  coming  child, 

And  that  however  bad  it  is  that  the  bad  all  tells  it  would  be 
worse  if  the  bad  did  not  all  tell, 

And  that  into  the  newcomer  the  litter  of  eras  crowds 
through  the  channels  of  your  transmuting  motherhood, 

And  that  the  poison  cannot  be  avoided  for  the  food,  hell  for 
celestia, 

And  that  the  crisis  gives  you  privileges  and  demands  deci 
sions, 

And  that  though  other  things  tell  the  mother  you  tells  most 
of  all 


OPTIMOS  185 

You  are  going  to  have  a  baby: 

Do  you  hear,  O  suns  and  planets — this  woman,  my  friend, 

is  going  to  have  a  baby: 
Do  you  hear,  O  eminent  big  men  and  women — today  is 

your  little  day:    this  woman,    my  friend,  is  going  to 

have  a  baby: 
Do  you  hear,  O  arts  and  sciences — this  is  your  day  for  going 

to  school  again:   this  woman,  my  friend,    is  going  to 

have  a  baby: 
Let  everything  be  set  aside  for  this  crowning  deed:  let  it 

occur  without  fault: 
Let  everything  wait  while  this  occurs — let  the  wonderful 

things  wait  for  this  thing    that  is  more  wonderful  to 

occur — 
While  this  parent  blaze  nurses  the  twinkle  of  its  offspring. 

Dear  mother,  my  friend:  the  universe  is  ready  for  you:  it 
makes  your  bed:  it  stands  round  to  be  used  if  you  need 
it: 

You  are  going  to  have  a  baby! 


AND   NOW  THE   BABY   IS   BORN 

And  now  the  baby  is  born, 

And   the   little   mother  after   the   agony  and  sweat  sleeps 

peacefully  on  her  bed, 
And  the  ages  old  traveler  tired  after  its  long  journey  lies  by 

the  side  of  the  mother, 
And  the  doctor  has  gone  away  into  the  night  to  answer 

other  calls  feeling  that  his  minor  part  in  this  major 

drama  is  over, 
And  the  glad  father  rests  at  ease  with  the  world  and  God 

and  his  own  soul, 


186  OPTIMOS 

And  the  nurse  with  a  hushed  air  goes  to  and  fro  ministering 

to  the  needs  of  the  helpless, 

And  quiet  falls  on  the  house  and  assuages  its  pitiful  fever, 
And  all  is  well  with  them  all  after  the  stir  and  the  doubt. 

Now  God  goes  back  to  the  accustomed  routine  now  that 

God  has  steered  this  ship  warily  into  port, 
Now  law  resumes  its  sway  now  that  a  miracle  has  broken 

its  rule, 

Now  other  things  are  happening  again  after  ceasing  to  hap 
pen  to  give  the  newcomer  right  of  way, 
Now  the  shadows  fall  thick  on  the  earth  and  the  quarrels  of 

peoples  are  reawakened, 
And  the  river  that  stopped  in  its  course  floods  and  ebbs  in 

the  tide  as  before, 
And  the  stars  that  left  the  heavens  to  shine  on  this  cradle 

slip  back  contentedly  to  their  orbits, 
And  the  streets  resound  with  manytoned  cries  again  after 

the  penitential  silences, 
And  suns  that  went  dim  on  this  holiday  are  lustrously  relit 

in  the  sky: 
So  it  is  that  the  baby  comes  to  us  divinely  despatched  and 

attended, 
So  it  is  that  not  only  this  mother  but  all  mothers  may  see 

that  motherhood  is  of  the  greatest  avail. 

Mothers,  all  of  you,  listen  to  me,  and  I  will  inform  your 

fiercely  fervent  faith: 
I  do  not  lose  sight  of  you  or  make  less,  of  you  wherever  you 

are,  in  garrets  or  palaces, 
And  I  pour  into  you  wide  flowing  far  advancing  floods  of 

consolation. 
I  am  not  standing  only  at  the  bedside  of  my  dear  friend:  I 

stand  at  all  bedsides, 


OPTIMOS  187 

For  each  bed  the  earth  over  contains  my  dear  friend 
though  we  dont  as  much  as  know  each  others'  names: 

I  stand  by  bedsides  of  pity,  bedsides  of  congratulation,  bed 
sides  of  revolt: 

And  here  it  is  that  I  see  babies  come  with  nobody  to  wel 
come  them — 

I  see  that  mothers  must  shudder  at  motherhood  because  the 
pathway  is  so  roughened  with  want — 

And  that  is  why  looking  at  the  injustice  of  the  world  I  sen 
tence  the  world  to  be  barren: 

I  say:  We  must  have  no  more  children  till  the  world  has 
learned  how  to  be  just  to  fathers  and  mothers. 

But  the  fathers  who  pay  the  father  costs  and  the  mothers 
who  pay  the  mother  costs  plead  and  I  relent: 

Relent  in  sorrow,  seeing  that  I  must  not  cross  the  fertile 
parent  hunger  of  my  children, 

And  remain  sorrowful,  weeping  bitter  tears,  wishing  the 
race  dream  was  made  easier  for  my  stubborn  children — 

My  wanton  wilful  ungovernable  divine  children — 

But  not  daring  to  withhold  my  sanction  from  those  who 
counting  all  risks  are  ready  to  adventure. 

Dear  mother,  mother  of  the  new  child,  and  all  you  mothers, 

mothers  of  all  children, 
Hear  me:    listen  to  me  as  I  say  these   big  ancient  things  to 

you  in  today's  tongue: 
I   do   not   need  to  retreat  to  the  masters  to  find  words  and 

signs  to  make  my  intention  plain: 
You  take  me  in  at  a  glance — you  know  the  size  and  quality 

of  my  promise: 
I  remove  the  clouds  from  the  prospect  so  that  motherhood 

may  glow  as  the  central  star, 
And  I  appoint  with  motherhood  the  regeneration  of  all  the 

future — 


188  OPTIMOS 

The  motherhood  not  of  fathers  not  of  laws  not  of  tradi 
tions  but  the  free  motherhood  of  love. 

Little  mother,  I   listened  outside  your  door  and  they  told 

me  how  you  got  on, 
And  I  grieved  for  you  who  suffered  and  I  danced  with  mad 

jollity  for  you  who  rejoiced, 

And  I  laid  upon  your  doorsill  the  tax  of  my  utmost  passion, 
Until  the  travail  was  all  past  and  the  deliverance, 
And   then   I   left  you  to  retake  my  anonymous  part  in  the 

crowd, 
Leaving  behind  me  that  which  you  will  always  feel  though 

it  never  goes  by  my  name — 
I  who  mothered  your  motherhood  and  fathered  the  father 

your  mate. 
And  now  the  baby  is  born. 


THE   LITTLE    OLD    MOTHER   AT  THE 
STREET    CORNER 

The  little  old  mother  at  the  street  corner: 

The  simple  woman,  so  perfectly  dressed,  wearing  the  tiny 

cap  over  her  gray  hair: 
I  can  see  her  now  from  these  near  days  way  back  in  those 

far  years: 
I  can  see  her  now  sitting  on  a  box  by  her  apple  stand  next 

the  curb: 
I  can  see  her  smiles  to  the  passers  by,  her  courtesies  to  her 

customers: 
I  can  hear  her  voice  lifted  to  me  in  salutation:   I  stop  for  a 

minute  as  I  hurry  to  work: 
I  can  see  the  strong  nose  on  her  dear  face  and  the  big  wide 

open  still  clear  blue  eyes: 


OPTIMOS  189 

It  all  seems  just  like  yesterday,  just  like  today,  just  like  this 

minute: 
It  all  seems  so  close  and  so  sacred:  the  long  gone  time:  the 

bent  tired  serene  reticent  figure:  a  symbol  of  peace  in 

the  warring  town. 

Well:   you  have  caught  me  alone  with  my  heart:    I  am  not 

ashamed  of  my  heart: 
Yes:   you  have  caught  me  with  tears  in  my  eyes:   I  am  not 

ashamed  of  my  tears: 
You  remember  and  mourn  for  kings  on  thrones,  in  arts,  of 

money — the  few  false  heirs: 
I   remember  and   mourn   for   the   people,  for  the  outraged 

crowd,   for  the  untitled    millions — the  countless    true 

children. 
Take  your  rulers,  your  geniuses,  your  offices,  your  arrogant 

decorations — 
Leave  me  the  common  ways,  the  average,  the  dusty  road:  I 

tear  the  medals  from  my  breast: 
Yes:  you  have  caught  me  alone  with  my  heart  and  in  tears: 

I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  heart  and  my  tears. 

Dear  old   mother!      They  say  you  are   forgotten:  they  say 

so:  were  buried  away  in  the  ground  plenty  of  years  ago 

for  good: 

They  lie,  old  mother:  I  do  not  forget  you:  I  celebrate  you: 
They  lie:   I  never  put  you  into  a  grave — I  put  you  away  in 

my  heart: 
Do  you  hear,  mother? — in  my  heart:    and  there  you  have 

been  ever  since. 
Dear  old  mother:   the  great  men  hold  meetings  in  honor  of 

each  other — they  make  a  vast  hurrah  about  their  size: 
I  stand  aside,  old  mother:  I  will  only  hold  meetings  in  your 

honor:  in  your  honor — for  no  one  else: 


190  OPTIMOS 

They  set  each  other  on  thrones  and  bow  low  to  each  other 

and  play  that  they  are  superior: 
I   dont  set  you  on  a  throne,  I  dont  bow  low  to  you,  but  I 

see  that  you  are  supreme. 
That's  how  it  comes  about,  old  mother,  that  you  are  alive 

and  well  this  day  as  I  write  about  you  with  a  pen — 
That's  how  it  is  that  I  reach  down  to  you  again  and  again 

now  as  you  used  to  ask  me  to  then  and  kiss  you  a  boy's 

kiss  on  your  mother  lips: 
That's  why,  mother:  and  that's  why  my  tears  flow  and  why 

I  am  glad  beyond  all  other  satisfactions  to  stand  alone 

with  you  against  the  pride  of  the  world. 

They  took  my  mother  away  and  put  her  in  a  grave, 

And  all   around  me   mothers  were   taken   away  and  put  in 

graves, 
And  so  I  felt  that  mothers  died  and  somehow  were  lost  for 

forever  and  ever, 
And  I  often  went  by  you  and  received  your  "how  are  you 

sonny"  not  really  knowing  you, 
And  when  with  a  friendly  smile  you  gave  me  the  specked 

fruit  that  nobody  would  buy  I  was  grateful  but  did  not 

know  you, 

And  when  I  stopped  and  you  asked  me  questions  about  my 
self  and  told  me  about  a  cat  you  had  at  home  and  such 

things  I  was  pleased  but  did  not  know  you, 
And  so  it  went  on  like  that  for  a  long  long  time,  my  seeing 

you  yet  not  knowing  you: 
Then  one  day  I  awoke:   after  passing  you  something  struck 

me — some  light,  some  pang,  within: 
I  went  back  to  you — you  wondered — you  looked  up:   I  said 

nothing — only  kissed  you: 
God!  how  impossible  worlds  opened  into  impossible  worlds 

with  that  kiss! 


OPTIMOS  191 

God!  how  stars  reached  to  stars,  souls  to  souls,  all  space  to 
all  space  and  all  time  to  all  time,  with  that  kiss! 

You  knew  something  was  happening  to  me — you  didn't 
know  what:  you  stroked  my  cheek  with  your  open 
hand. 

From  that  day  to  all  days,    little    mother,    things  were    so 

different  to  me: 

I  saw  in  your  face  all  the  mother  faces  of  the  earth, 
I  saw  that  no  mothers  ever  died — that  that  was  a  clumsy 

calumny, 
I  saw  that  my  own  mother  and  my  comrade  mothers  and 

every  mother  lived  on  and  on  without  limit, 
I  saw  them  all  sitting  there  with  you  on  the  little  box  by 

the  apple  stand  rilling  flushing  the  highway  with  their 

illuminating  maternity — 
Sitting  there  with  you  while  all  motherhood  grew  bigger 

and  bigger  and  covered  the   heavens   and   all    the  big 

buildings  shrunk  smaller  and  smaller  and  vanished  from 

sight: 
I  saw  all  the  pageantry  of  the  social  order  cower  before  the 

verity  of  your  wrinkled  face  and  the  apples  and  pears 

spread  out  for  sale  and  the  little  bag  of  pennies  at  your 

waist: 
It  all  came  to  me  in  that  flash  from  God  knows  where:   all 

through  you: 
All  came  to  me,  little  mother,  some  way  out  of  your  hand 

touching  me  and  out  of  your  words  spoken  to  me  in 

love. 

I   hear  a  voice:    it  has  something  particular  to  say  to  me: 

"sonny"  it  calls  me: 
What  has  the  voice  to  say  to  me?      I  guess  I  know:  it  calls 

me  away  from  the  bypaths  to  itself  on  the  main  road: 


192  OPTIMOS 

I  see  a  face:  the  face  is  grave  and  beautiful  with  age:  it  has 

something  particular  to  convey  to  me: 
That  face  coming  to  me  in  many  faces — in  all  faces  of  old 

women  I  pass  on  the  street: 
That  voice  coming  to  me  in  many  voices — in  all  voices  of 

old  women  I  pass  on  the  street: 
It  calls  me  from  my  little  river  to  its  big  sea:  it  calls  me:  I 

set  full  sail:  I  go: 
The  mother  voice,  the  mother  gesture,  calling  me:   I  hurry: 

I  go: 
Do  not  argue  with  me:   my  decision  is  made:   mother,  O 

mother,  where  are  you? 
Let   me   hear  your  voice  again:    O  mother,  O  mother,  I 

come:  receive  me: 
Ah!    you    are    there — I    feel    your    arm    about    me — I    am 

safe. 

Yes:  I  see  her  now,  just  as  if  it  was  this  minute,  just  as  if 
it  was  first  going  on  as  I  write: 

She  takes  me  out  of  my  transitory  death  into  her  inexpugn 
able  life: 

The  little  old  mother  at  the  street  corner. 


THEY  CAME  TO  ME  AND  TOLD  ME  YOU 
WERE  DEAD 

They  came   to   me   and    told    me   you  were    dead,   Carrie 

Rand, 

And  my  heart  stopped  still  and  a  cloud  fell  on  my  path, 
But  the  next  minute  I  knew  that  what  they  said  was  not 

true — 
I  knew  that  you  were  still  alive  somewhere  and  somehow 

continuing  your  round  of  succor, 


OPTIMOS  193 

And  so  I  went  about  my  business  again  contented  with  the 
rhythm  of  the  average  day. 

I  saw  you  as  you  sat  in  your  chair  in  the  beautiful  sunlight, 

Carrie  Rand, 
And  I  saw  the  world's  poor  pass  in  procession  before  you 

and  receive  your  benediction, 
And  I  saw  lightnings  flash  from  your  resolute  eyes  towards 

the  children  of  chaos, 
And  I  saw  lovebeams  flash  from  your  melting  eyes  towards 

the  children  of  order, 
And  all  as  you  sat  in  your  chair  and  said  nothing  and  did 

not  move, 
And  all  as  you  sat  in  your  chair  with  the  forerays  of  a  new 

earth  cast  into  your  illumined  face, 

You,  Carrie  Rand,  grown  young   in  age  again  in  the  sur 
prises  of  springtide  years, 
Among  the  youngest  of  those  who   hope  the  youngest  in 

hope  forever. 

They  told  me  you  were  dead,  Carrie  Rand:  dead,  dead: 

But  that  word  death — what  meaning  has  it  to  me? 

It  does  not  tell  me  anything  of  the  time  of  the  day  or  of  the 

night,  or  of  the  time  of  eternity, 
It  does  not  fill  any  blank  spaces  of  desire  or  open  any  closed 

doors  of  dreams, 
It  does  not  carry  any  of  the  burdens  of  life  or  make  easier 

the  mysteries  of  defeat  and  corruption: 
It  is  a  good  word  for  the  undertaker,  it  is  a  passable  word 

for  the  priest,  but  for  love,  dear  love — 
It  is  not  a  word  that  fits  with  love  in  any  heres  or  hereafters 

of  the  stars. 

When  they  say  death  I  do  not  see  your  face,  Carrie  Rand, 
But  when  they  say  life  1  see  your  face,  Carrie  Rand: 


194  OPTIMOS 

Death,  that  takes  down  the  sign  from  the  doorpost  and  sells 

to  any  bidder  the  few  poor  things  that  remain: 
Death  is  not  a  word  that  fits  with  love,  Carrie  Rand: 
Death   is  a  dead  word  that  will  not  fit  with  you,  Carrie 
Rand. 

What  do  you  mean,  my  brother,  when  you  speak  of  death? 

Do  you  mean  that  life  passes  a  sentence  upon  life? 

Do  you  mean  that  the  whole  account  of  life  can  in  any  way 
be  charged  off? 

Do  you  mean  that  in  the  throw  of  the  dice  death  comes  up 
doubles  and  life  is  outfigured  by  death? 

I  have  tried  to  take  this  master  woman  and  measure  her  by 
the  measure  of  death  but  death  failed  to  measure  her, 

I  have  found  that  she  could  only  be  measured  by  the  meas 
ure  of  the  fullest  life  and  then  but  barely  measured. 

A  few  days  ago  you  were  in  the  midst  of  us,  Carrie  Rand: 
You  sat  in  your  chair  and  were  silent  and  your  silence  was 

as  powerful  as  armies  on  the  march, 
You  sat   in  your  chair  and  talked  to  us  and   your  wisdom 

was  the  counsel  of  universal  service, 
You  called  success  after  the   seekers,  you  cried  hurrah  to 

those  who  arrived, 
Through  you  heroism  rose  to  its  best  renown  and  proved  its 

faith  on  impossible  peaks, 
Through   you   the   distant  world  and  the  near  world  were 

brought  together  and  understood  each  other, 
Through  you,  as  you  sat  in  your  chair — you,  who  did  not 

ask  anything:  you,  who  gave  everything: 
The   measure   of  your  acclaim  was  the  exhaustless  fuel  of 

revolution. 
Out  of  you  were   draughts   of  pity  paid,  out  of  you  were 

notes  of  love  endorsed, 


OPTIMOS  195 

Your  oldest  old  age  was  the  youngest  youth  of  the  world. 
If  the  bravest  were  brave  you  were  braver  still, 
If  the  simplest  were  modest  you  were  more  modest  still, 
You  took  the  great  cause  to  your  heart  and  gave  your  great 

heart  to  the  cause, 

You  refreshed  the   timeworn    years  with  immortal  jubila 
tion. 

They  came  to  me  and  told  me  you  were  dead,  Carrie  Rand. 
And  my  heart  stopped  still  and  a  cloud  fell  on  my  path, 
But  the  next  minute  I  knew  that  what  they  said  was  not 

true — 
I  knew  that  you  were  still  alive  somewhere  and  somehow 

continuing  your  round  of  succor, 
And  so  I  went  about  my  business  again  contented  with  the 

rhythm  of  the  average  day. 


I    HAVE  TRIED   TO    KEEP   A   LITTLE   OF 
MYSELF 

I  have  tried  to  keep  a  little  of  myself  for  other  uses, 
But  love  denies  my  reserve:  I  must  have  all,  says  love. 
I  bargained  sharply  with  love  and  love  kept  away, 
I  wondered  this  of  love  and  that  of  love  and  love  was  still 

alienated. 
I  looked  for  love   in  the  open  day  and  in  dark  places  and 

love  baffled  my  desire, 
But  when  I  stopped  looking  and  simply  loved  love  came 

hurrying — 

Came  to  me  from  hell  hot  with  fire, 
Came  to  me  from  heaven  calm  with  justice 

I  could  not  cheat  love: 


196  OPTIMOS 

When  I  reminded  love  of  my  sins  love  smiled  and  loved  on, 

When  I  reminded  love  of  my  purity  love  smiled  the  same 
smile  and  loved  on. 

Then  I  asked:  Love  seems  to  take  no  account  of  best  and 
bad:  what  does  love  take  account  of? 

When  I  said  evil  love  loved  on  and  did  not  seem  to  under 
stand, 

When  I  said  good  love  loved  on  and  did  not  seem  to  under 
stand, 

But  when  I  looked  love  towards  love — 

The  animal  love  of  my  body, 

The  animal  love  of  my  soul, 

The  love  not  animal  of  my  body  and  my  soul — 

Then  love  seemed  to  understand, 

Adjourning  the  universe  to  fulfil  our  pregnant  plight. 


I  GO  WHERE  MY 
HEART  GOES 


When  we  understand  each  other,  all  in  all, 

When  two  friends  understand  each  other  after  they  have  misunderstood, 

When  nations  understand  each  other  in  peace  after  they  have  misunder 
stood  each  other  in  war, 

When  fathers,  mothers,  children,  friends,  people,  understand,  all 
understand  all, 

Oh!  that  must  be  heaven — there  is  nothing  beyond. 


You  have  passed  in  all  the  collaterals  of  love  but  where  is  love? 

You  have  brought  me  love's  dresses  and  love's  habits  and  love's  alpha 
bets  but  have  not  brought  me  love, 

You  have  brought  me  soul's  love  that  forgot  the  body, 

You  have  brought  me  body's  love  that  forgot  the  soul, 

But  love  still  waits  expecting  a  complete  return. 

For  I,  said  love,  when  I  take  possession  of  life, 

I,  too,  sing,  and  sing  a  song  beyond  the  songs  of  song, 

For  I  go  singing  not  in  words  but  in  shapes  and  phantoms  that  give 
words  leave  to  be. 

You  put  your  ear  to  the  roots  of  the  trees  and  you  hear  my  song, 

Or  to  the  shuttle  of  the  loom  and  hear  my  song, 

Or  to  the  farmer's  plow  and  hear  my  song, 

Or  to  the  needle  of  the  sewer  and  hear  my  song, 

Or  to  the  heart,  not  the  lips,  of  the  famous  woman  who  sings  and 
hear  my  song, 

Or  to  anything  anywhere  away  from  words  and  hear  my  song: 

For  outside  the  meanings  of  my  song  there  is  no  meaning  to  me, 

For  if  life  in  all  its  heaven  and  hell  escapes  me  then  I  am  empty  and 
count  like  a  cipher. 

I  have  trailed  myself  laboriously  in  all  the  ages  through  the  phrases 
of  the  parleyers  with  words, 

But  I  have  found  that  words  are  only  loyal  when  they  report  back  to 
life  again  and  ask  for  orders: 

And  I  who  am  love  am  the  only  life, 

And  therefore  words  must  report  back  to  me  forever  for  their  conse 
quent  realities. 


I   GO   WHERE   MY   HEART   GOES 

I  go  where  my  heart  goes:  where  else  should  I  go? 
With  or  without  reason,  I  go  with  my  heart: 
Whether  urged  to  go  or  warned  to  stay,  I  go  with  my  heart: 
In  the  face  of  everything  bitter  and  sweet,  false  and  true,  I 

go  with  my  heart: 

Joyously  into  any  shadow,  victoriously  towards  whatever  de 
feat,  I  go  with  my  heart: 
Being  afraid  sometimes  to  risk  what  I  must   become,  yet 

being  more  afraid  to  remain  what  I  am: 
Often  denying  love  to  go  with  love,  denying  light  to  find 

light: 
Choosing   for  good  and  all  the  heart's  wish,  steering  for 

good  and  all  the  heart's  course: 
Acknowledging  the  world  I   leave  but  ready  and  eager  for 

the  world  I  go  to: 

Ready  for  disaster  and  wreck  and  death  in  the  world  I  go  to: 
Ready  for  the  worst  that  turns  up:   ready  to  lose  all  and  get 

oblivion: 
Ready  for  the   heart's  demands,  the  heart's  decisions,  the 

heart's  denials: 
Oh,  so  ready  to  go  where  the  heart  goes:  oh,  so  eager  to  go 

where  the  heart  goes! 

Do  you  go  with  the  state?     Well,  so  do  I  if  the  state  goes 

with  the  heart: 
But  if  the  state  goes  against  the  heart  then  I  go  against  the 

state: 
And  your  church  the  same,  and  your  books,  and  all  your 

proud  scholarship: 

If  they  go  against  the  heart  then  I  go  against  them: 

199 


200  OPTIMOS 

It  makes  no  difference  what  they  go  with,  if  they  go  against 

the  heart  I  go  against  them: 
They  may  establish  their  laws:   I  will  show  that  their  laws 

are  lawless: 
They  may  put  up   imposing  libraries  and  schools:    I  will 

show  that  their  learning  fastens  chains  on  the  crowd: 
For  the  way  the  heart  goes  is  the  way  the  people  go:   there 

is  no  other  way: 
And  if  the  institutions  go  against  the  heart  they  go  against 

the  people, 

And  nothing  that  goes  against  the  people  can  stand:   noth 
ing:   nothing: 
It  may  seem   to  flourish   for  awhile  but   is  bound  to  come 

down:  it  has  no  foundation: 
The  earth  will  go  out  from  under  it — gravitation  will  go 

out — faith  will  go  out: 

As  surely  as  it  is  against  love  it  is  against  life, 
As  surely  as  it  is  against  the  heart  the  heart  will  reduce  it 

to  dust. 

A  man's  or  a  woman's  home  is  where  a  man's  or  a  woman's 

love  is: 
If  you  dont  go  where  your  heart  goes  where  do  you  go? — if 

you  dont  go  to  love  where  do  you  go? 
And  if  you  go  east  while  your  heart  goes  west  what  will  fill 

up  the  mocking  gap  between? 
And  if  you  keep  the  north  star  over  your  shoulder  instead  of 

straight  ahead  nothing  can  untangle  your  twisted  feet: 
And  you  let  your  heart  go  somewhere  alone:   you  do  not  go 

with  your  heart: 
You  know  your  heart  goes  right — goes  where   it  belongs: 

but  you  do  not  go  with  your  heart: 
And  you  fail  to  go  where  your  heart  goes:   you  go  with  an 

income  or  a  house: 


OPTIMOS  201 

And  you  arraign   the   heart:    you  have  discovered  that  the 

heart  is  a  stumbling  guide: 
And  you  say  that  the   heart  needs  eyes,  which  I  say,  too: 

who  sees  it  better  than  I  do? 

And  I  say  that  the  heart  has  eyes,  which  you  do  not  say,  too: 
(Oh  such  eyes  as   the  heart  has!  has  life  eyes?   only  such 

eyes  as  the  heart  has!): 
And  so  you  make  a  contract  with  the  world:   you  will  go 

where  the  world  goes: 
And  you  will  profane  the  days  and  nights  with  your  perfidy: 

you  will  go  where  treason  goes: 
And  when  you  rob  or  kill   you  will  call  robbing  or  killing 

by  pleasant  names  so  as  to  feel  at  ease  with  your  bloody 

hands: 
You  who   do  not  go   where   life  goes  but  go  where  death 

goes: 
You  who  do  not  go  where  heaven  goes  but  go  where  hell 

goes: 
You  who — 

I  go  where  my  heart  goes:  where  else  should  I  go? 

I  do  not  want  to  go  right  if  my  heart  goes  wrong: 

I  am  not  bothered  with  right  or  wrong  anyhow:  I  am  both 
ered  only  about  my  heart: 

I  could  be  very  good  and  not  going  where  my  heart  goes 
fail,  O  shamefully  fail! 

I  could  be  very  bad  and  going  where  my  heart  goes  win,  O 
gloriously  win! 

I  will  stand  by  you  in  a  pinch,  my  heart:  through  thick  and 
thin  you  will  feel  my  supporting  arm: 

Long  and  often  I  have  leaned  on  you,  you  have  leaned  on 
me,  as  we  trudged  along  together: 

I  unfailingly  go  with  you:  where  you  go  I  will  go:  tomor 
row,  next  day,  always: 


202  OPTIMOS 

I  will  let  the  properties  go  their  way:   the  reputations:   the 

great  men: 
Nothing  is  of  use  to  me  but  you,  O  my  heart:  nothing  but 

you,  O  fallible  heroic  heart! 

I  will  go  where  you  go:  I  know  nowhere  else  to  go: 
I  have  tried  to  find  some  other  place  to  go,  but  I  return  to 

you: 
I  will  let  the  crowd  go  with  the  legislature:  I  will  go  where 

there  is  no  legislature:  where  there  is  only  love: 
For  he  who  goes  where  his  heart  goes  may  have  to  give  up 

all  who  love  him  to  get  all  he  loves: 
He  may  have  to  be  misunderstood  by  everybody  to  get  so  he 

may  understand  himself: 
But  he  who  goes  where  his  heart  goes,  goes  where  all  futures 

go  and  is  exalted: 
I  go  where  my  heart  goes:  where  else  should  I  go? 


AND   THIS   IS   WHAT    LOVE   SAID 

And  this  is  what  Love  said  to  me  in  the  watch  of  our 
night: 

Go  into  the  broadcast  world, 

Try  your  love  on  haters,  on  the  alien,  thieves,  those  who 
take  life, 

Try  your  love  in  wars,  in  the  drift  and  dreg  of  the  under 
flow, 

Let  your  love  take  lessons  of  those  who  do  not  love  yet  en 
dure — of  those  who  without  returns  yet  live. 

Why  should  you  palter  here  with  your  untried  love — here 
at  hospitable  gates? 

Why  should  your  love  keep  its  feet  tender  and  its  palms  soft? 

Go  with  your  love  where  it  is  not  wanted: 


OPTIMOS  203 

Go  with  love  to  locked  doors,  where  it  finds  backs  turned 

or  eyes  casting  suspicious  looks: 
Take  it  where  it  must  be  maimed:   offer  it  as  a  last  tribute 

to  murder: 
Drag   It  through  gutters  and  slime,  trail   it  through  vice, 

track  it  across  bloodshed: 
Fling  it  to  vipers,  freeze  it  in  arctic  ice,  burn  it  in  tropic 

fire. 
What  is  this  love  you  fix  and  fit  in  a  parlor  and  set  forth 

on  carpets? 

You  swear  it  is  love:    you  bring  it  along  with  all   the  ac 
cepted  credentials: 
But  I  do  not  recognize  the  counterfeit,  my  heart  rejects  the 

sham. 

Love  of  attitudes  and  dress,  love  of  arbors  and  great  for 
tunes, 

Love  of  flowers  and  gentility,  love  of  perfumes  and  joyances, 
Love  of  feeders  and  clothers,  love  of  flatterers  and  suborners, 
Love  that  masks  and  mocks,  love  that  stutters  and  steals. 
Take  your  love  away  and  suffer  with  it — 
Take  it  to  calvaries,  fast  with  it  in  wildernesses, 
Travel  till  its  feet  bleed,  till  its  sight  is  gone,  till  it  drops 

by  the  wayside. 

You  dally  with  me,  demanding  to  exchange  love  for  love: 
I  declare  that  you  must  exchange  love  for  hate: 
You  come  to  me  as  to  one  preferred  to  all  the  rest: 
I  shall  expect  you  to  prefer  all  the  rest,  then  come  to  me. 
You  brought  me  armfuls  of  roses:   their  sweet  accents  were 

daggers — their  fair  colors  were  poisons: 
But  your  careful  fingers  were  not  once  pricked  by  a  thorn: 
Your   gloved  precautions  allowed  you  to   worship  without 

harm, 

But  I  am  cruel — I  demand  pain  and  hurt:  I  only  desire  you 
after  you  are  despoiled  and  defeated. 


204  OPTIMOS 

Go  now:   we  have  had  sweet  days  together:   but  sweet  days 

are  not  love. 
Go  now:  we  have  tested  our  love  by  all  the  golden  rules  of 

precedent  and  prestige. 
Now  you  must  abandon  the  road,  must  desert  all  known 

paths  and  trust  yourself  to  the  outlying  spaces. 
After  many  days  you  may — you  may,  O  heart — come  back 

to  me  again  with  love: 

After  days,  survivals,  you  may  come  back  to  me: 
Then  you  will  put  your  love  at  my  threshold  and  go  away: 
You  will  go  away:   and  you  will  not  come  again  till  I  call: 

and  you  will  go  cheerfully  about  your  life  and  listen: 
And  my  heart  will  not  forget.  , 

And  that  is  what  Love  said  to  me  in  the  watch  of  our  night. 


SWEAR   TO    ME,   SAID    MY   LOVE 

Swear  to  me,  said  my  love,  that  you  are  mine: 
Bring  yourself  to  me  outside  my  door  and  wait: 
My  lovers  have  come  in  numbers  but  they  go, 
I  call  for  love  that  asks  for  nothing  and  gives  all. 
I  am  tired  of  the  debits  and  credits  of  love, 
I  am  tired  of  the  vows  of  lovers, 
I  leave  you  as  free  as  I  ask  to  be  myself. 
Swear  to  me,  said  my  love,  that  love  is  not  a  bond: 
Love's  body  is  for  love's  body,  that  is  all, 
Love's  soul  is  for  love's  soul,  that  is  all. 
I  give  all  for  all,  I  bargain  for  nothing  less, 
And  as  much  as  you  confer  just  so  much  you  take  away. 
Come  to  me,  said  my  love,  for  I  am  hungry  and  thirsty: 
I   am   forbidden  the  gobetweens,  I  am  forbidden  the  ques 
tions  and  answers: 


OPTIMOS  205 

Come  to  me  whole,  come  unburdened,  come, 

Your  body  dreaming  of  my  body,  your  soul  dreaming  of  my 

soul, 
Your  full  surrender  for  my  full  surrender  completing  the 

hour  of  joy: 
Come  in  the  fulness  of  harvests,  come  in  the  overflow  of 

streams. 
Come,  said  my  love,  come  in  the  repeal  of  the  law,  come 

in  the  outrage  of  custom: 

Our  love  is  the  love  of  revolt,  our  love  is  the  rebel  dream: 
It  is  mellow  and  full  like  a  tree  heavy  with  fruit, 
It  is  rank  and  wet  like  an  earthplot  ready  with  returns, 
It  is  all  of  heaven  meeting  all  of  hell,  sphering  a  new  do 
main, 

This  love,  said  my  love,  of  your  body, 
This  love,  said  my  love,  of  your  soul: 
This  love,  yours  and  mine,  pulsing  with  fervent  life, 
Making  amends  for  all  the  failed  loves  of  the  past. 


IF  YOU  WILL  TELL  ME  WHAT  LOVE   IS   FOR 

If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  the  one  man  and  the  one  woman 

are  for  each  other, 
If  you  will  tell  me  why  bodies  may  be  thousands  of  miles 

apart  and  may  not  meet  but  why  love  that  is  just  as  far 

apart  may  meet  at  will, 
If  you  will  tell   me  why  dreams  of  lovers  that  may  never 

come  true  in  the  flesh  still  come  true  somehow, 
If  you  will  tell  me  why  nothing  can  stay  love  from  love's 

purpose,  nothing  in  seas  or  lands  or  laws, 
If  you  will  tell  me  why  a  dream  of  love  will  thrill  you  like 

the  flesh  of  love  itself, 


206  OPTIMOS 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  the  children  of  those  who  love  are 
better  lovers  again  than  the  children  of  those  who  hate, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  love  nestles  at  the  root  of  the  tree 
and  makes  and  sustains  the  tree, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  love  breathes  in  the  origins  of  all 
use  and  all  beauty  and  makes  and  sustains  all  use  and 
all  beauty  forever, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  love  has  room  for  all  the  men  and 
women  of  all  the  races  in  the  same  bridal  bed  and  con 
summates  them  in  the  same  result, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  other  things  will  submit  to  be  denied 
and  sent  away  but  why  love  will  never  submit  to  be 
denied  and  sent  away, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  fire,  wind,  flood,  can  destroy  every 
thing  but  love  but  can  never  destroy  love, 

If  you  will  tell  me  why  the  passion  and  the  purity  of  love 
mix  in  the  nebula  of  the  common  life, 

If  you  will  tell  me  such  things  of  love  I  will  tell  you  such 
things  of  life, 

If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for  I  will  tell  you  what 
life  is  for. 

Why  should  we  not  tell  each  other  what  love  is  for? 

Why  should  we  betray  the  meaning  of  love  to  a  meaning 

not  of  love? 
Why  should  we  put  love  in  chains  and  exact  tribute  of  its 

immutable  treasure? 
Why  should  we  give  a  false  name  to  the  flesh  and  refuse  it 

the  suffrage  of  flesh? 
Why  should  we  give  a  false  name  to  denial  and  set  it  upon 

a  throne  and  fall  down  and  worship  it? 
Why  should  we  call  all   the   mothers  of  children  and  the 

children  of  mothers  by  a  false  name  and  expect  to  be 

rewarded  for  our  apostasy? 


OPTIMOS  207 

Why  should  love  shrink  from  the  body  of  love  in  a  man  or 

a  woman  when  the  whole  universe  is  love's   infinite 

body  in  beauty  and  power? 
If  you  will  tell  me  such  things  of  love  I  will  tell  you  such 

things  of  life, 
If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for  I  will  tell  you  what  life 

is  for. 

If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for, 

If  you  will  tell  me  what  my  body,  which  is  love,  is  for,  and 

what  my  soul,  which  is  love,  is  for, 
If  you  will  tell  me  what  the  hunger  of  a  man  for  a  woman 

is  for  and  what  the  hunger  of  a  woman  for  a  man  is 

for, 
If  you  will  tell  me  what  the  dreams  of  lovers  made  flesh  are 

for, 
If  you  will  tell  me  what  the  flesh  of  lovers  made  dream  is 

for, 
If  you  will  tell  me  such  things  of  love  I  will  tell  you  such 

things  of  life, 
If  you  will  tell  me  what  love  is  for  I  will  tell  you  what  life 

is  for. 


LOVE    KNOWS    BEST    WHAT    TO     DO    WITH 

LOVE 

Love  knows  best  what  to  do  with  love: 
As  the  tree  knows  best  what  to  do  with  the  fruit, 
As  the  field  knows  best  what  to  do  with  the  harvest, 
As  the  river  knows  best  what  to  do  with  the  tides, 
As  the  sun  knows  best  what  to  do  with  the  light, 
As  today  knows  best  what  to  do  with  tomorrow, 
So  does  love  know  best  what  to  do  with  love. 


208  OPTIMOS 

Love  knows  best  what  to  do  with  love — 

Knows  better  than  the  priest,  knows  better  than  the  laws, 

what  to  do  with  love — 
Yes,  knows  better  than  parents  and  counsellors  what  to  do 

with  love: 
Doing  the  worst  it  can,  still  knows  better  than  any  guardian 

what  to  do  with  love, 
Though  stumbling  and  falling  often  still  knows  best  what 

to  do  with  love. 

And  though  I  go  through  hell  I  can  go  through  hell  joyfully 

with  love, 
And  though  I  fly  on  wings  to  celestia  without  love  the  sun 

of  heaven  will  go  out, 
And  though  life  offers  me  great  rewards  if  these  rewards  are 

not  rewards  of  love  I  would  rather  take  my  chances 

with  death, 
And  though  love  gives  no  end  of  trouble  to  a  man  the  lack 

of  love  is  worse  sorrow, 
And  though  I  hate  love  because  it  coerces  me  I  love  love 

because  it  frees  me, 
And  though  people  are  afraid  to  trust  themselves  to  love  I 

never  knew  love  to  go  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver, 
And  though  all  my  neighbors  set  up  signs  against  the  tres 
pass  of  my  love  my  love  does  not  heed  the  fences, 
And  so  I  do  not  doubt  that  the  corruption  in  a  man  with 

love  is  purer  than  the  saintliness  in  a  man  without  love, 
And    that    any    heaven    that  came  to  a  man  without  love 

would  not  be  worth  as  much  as  a  hell  that  came  to  a 

man  with  love, 
And  that  you,  no  matter  who  you  are,  should  go  with  love 

to  the  ends  of  love  and  not  be  afraid, 
And  that  all  laws  and  all  customs  should  go  with  love  to  the 

ends  of  love  and  not  be  afraid. 


OPTIMOS  209 

And  that  if  you,  no  matter  who  you  are,  deny  love,  and  that 

if  the  laws  and  the  customs  deny  love, 
It  is  like  locking  yourself  in  somewhere,  like  locking  the 

laws  and  customs   in  somewhere,  and  throwing  away 

the  key. 

I  know  that  the  fulfilment  of  love  is  terrible  with  dangers 

and  sacrifices, 
And  I  know  that  you  have  to  give  up  almost  everything  else 

before  you  can  get  love — 
As  the  mother  gives  up  almost  everything,  almost  life  itself, 

to  get  her  child, 
As  the  seed  gives  up  almost  everything,  almost  life  itself,  to 

get  the  flower: 
And  I  know  that  only  those  who  are  rich  enough  to  pay  the 

tolls  should  attempt  the  journey, 
For  I  know  that  the  delicate  people  with  white  hands  are 

not  equal  to  the  undertaking — 
To  that  final  adventure  which  leads  over  troublesome  seas 

and  wild  lands  before  home  is  reached: 
Which  leads  over  earths  and  stars  and  suns  of  heat  and  cold 

and  storm  and  calm  before  home  is  reached: 
Before  love  lies  down  with  love  secured  in  love's  dear  arms. 

I  hear  confusing  voices  of  protest: 

Voices  set  up  by  legislatures  to  tell  me  how  to  go, 

Voices  set  up  in  parlors  to  tell  me  how  to  go, 

Voices    set  up    in    trade   and  by   my  friends  and  my  dear 

brothers  and  all  to  tell  me  how  to  go, 
Voices  of  philosophy  and  art  to  tell  me  how  to  go: 
I  hear  them  all  and  accept  them  all  and  acknowledge  their 

sacred  meanings, 
But  that  voice  within  me  uttering  admonitions  more  potent 

even  than  the  chorus  of  dissent, 


210  OPTIMOS 

That  single  voice  so  modestly  advising  me,  possessing  my 

ardent  soul, 
That  voice  appointing  the  prohibited  way  and  issuing  the 

challenge  of  rebellion, 

Takes  me  forth  into  the  darkest  night  on  the  lightest  feet, 
And  leaves  me  to  myself  and  leaves  me  to  love. 

Good  bye,  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  it  is  too  late  to  hold 
me  back: 

And  you,  my  father  and  mother,  and  you,  my  wife  and  chil 
dren — it  is  too  late,  too  late: 

Good  bye,  dear  laws:  good  bye,  dear  habits  of  ordered  life 
—it  is  too  late  to  hold  me  back: 

Good  bye  to  you,  dear  creeds — good  bye  to  you,  O  teachers 
and  priests:  I  go,  I  go — my  heart  takes  me  away: 

You  were  all  very  dear  to  me,  the  beautiful  with  the  ugly 
very  dear  to  me,  living  in  routine  and  in  the  camp: 

I  could  not  say  how  dear  you  all  were  to  me  and  I  do  not 
part  from  you  without  regret, 

But  I  go:  the  fresher  voice  leads  me  on — the  irresistible 
voice  releases  me  from  where  I  was  tied  and  harried, 

And  though  I  call  words  of  farewell  to  you  over  my  shoul 
der  as  long  as  we  are  within  hearing  of  each  other,  and 
after, 

Nothing  now  can  hold  me  back — nothing  now  can  temper 
my  hastening  feet: 

Love  knows  best  what  to  do  with  love. 


I    SPEND    MY    DAYS   AND    NIGHTS    WITH 
THOSE   I    LOVE 

I  spend  my  days  and  nights  with  those  I  love: 
I  pass  without  leave  or  hindrance  into  the  nooks  and  cor 
ners  of  human  hearts: 


OPTIMOS  211 

I  who  mostly  rejected  yet  do  not  reject  myself — who  am  in 

great  favor  with  myself: 
I  go  my  rounds  collecting  my  fee,  the  fee  of  love — making 

my  claims  so  big: 
Remitting  no  tax:  demanding  the  last  cent — the  final  drop 

of  blood: 
Hungry  to  eat  and  thirsty  to  drink  the  sure  feast  that  may  be 

set: 
Turning  aside  into  no  minor  currents  but  keeping  to  the 

main  stream, 
Caring  for  nothing  else,  indifferent  to  rewards — indifferent 

to  results  good  or  bad, 
Not  eager  about  fame,  about  being  seen — only  eager  about 

love: 

Nestling  seedlike  in  the  ground  producing  the  flowers, 
Falling  as  rain  from  the  clouds,  flowing  as  rivers  from  the 

hills,  creating  the  sea: 
I,  going  among  men,  passing  everything  by  but  love,  seeing 

only  love: 
Blind  to  the  great  houses,  blind  to  the  great  men,  blind  to 

money  and  show — 
My  eyes  shut  to  them,  unconscious  of  them:    my  eyes  open 

to  love,  conscious  alone  of  love: 
Pitiless  to  those  who  possessing  fortunes  come  without  love, 

turning  them  away, 
Pitiful   to   those   who  possessing  nothing  come  with  love, 

taking  them  in  my  arms: 

Throwing  all  of  me  open  to  all  of  them  without  restraint: 
Asking  no  returns — willing  to  love:    not  asking  that  they 

love  me:  asking  only  that  they  love: 

Satisfied  with  seeing  love  about  me,  seeing  it  in  men,  see 
ing  it  in  deeds,  loosened  in  the  air: 
Not  asking  love  to  look  at  me  or  enthrone  me — to  fix  any 

honor  on  me: 


212  OPTIMOS 

Only  too  joyful  to  see  love  at  work,  only  too  well  repaid, 
standing  out  of  sight,  seeing  love  responding  to  love — 

As  life  answers  the  sun,  coming  to  proof  in  harvests  and 
people, 

Love  so  answering  to  life,  coming  to  proof  in  mercies  and 
ameliorations. 

They  fished  his  dead  body  out  of  the  river:    they  said  he 

died  for  love: 

He  had  gone  his  limit:  life  was  useless  to  him:  he  was  dis 
appointed  in  love: 
It  seemed   to   me   different:    it  seemed  to   me   he  died   for 

want  of  love: 

It  seemed  to  me  different:  it  seemed  to  me  love  was  disap 
pointed  in  him. 

What  have  you  got  to  do  with  love  anyhow  except  to  love? 
When  you  blow  your  brains  out  for  love  dont  you  blow  love 

out  with  your  brains? 
When  you  murder  the   girl  you   love  because  she  does  not 

love  you,  have  you  really  murdered  the  girl? 
It  seems  to  me  different:    you  have  not  murdered   the  girl: 

the  girl  lives:  you  have  murdered  love. 
The   lovers  quarrel:   they  separate  with  bitter  accusations: 

love  is  no  longer  love,  they  say: 
It  seems  to  me  different:    love  is  more  love  than  ever:    love 

may  now  taste  its  sweetest  fruit. 
It   is  easy  enough  to  love  when  you  are  loved,  but  to  love 

when  you  are  not  loved — that  is  a  step  beyond. 
Someone  dearest  to  you  dies:  you  grieve — die:  heartbroken: 

you,  so  innocent,  so  loyal: 
It  seems  to  me  different:   you  throw  life  away  after  death: 

you,  so  guilty,  so  traitorous. 
To  give  up  because  another  gives  up  is  no  reason  at  all:  it 

is  in  place  of  a  reason: 


OPTIMOS  213 

Though  all  the  rest  retreat,  though  you  stand  alone,  though 

no  ally  is  left  to  call  upon — well,  you  may  still  love: 
And  the  main  question  is  not  whether  people  give  you  up 

but  whether  you  give  people  up: 
And  when  I  look  at  the  despoiled  bodies  of  men  and  women 

who  throw  themselves  away  for  love  I  am  discontented: 
I  say  to  despairers  who  throw  themselves  away  for  love:    it 

would  have  been  better  evidence   of  love   if  you  had 

saved  yourselves  for  love. 
It  seems  to  me  different:  love  cant  be  put  into  a  grave:  love 

is  what  the  grave  spares: 
You  who  killed  your  friend  because  you  loved  him  did  not 

love  your  friend — you  only  loved  a  shadow  thrown  on 

the  ground: 
And  loving  the  shadow  of  anything   is  not  enough — only 

loving  love  is  enough:  love's  unspotted  light:  no  less: 
And  you  who  love  even  in  the  loss  of  love  never  destroy  life 

in  others  or  yourself  for  love: 
No:    you   give   others,    yourself,  extra  reasons   for  living — 

reasons  supreme  above  all  reasons  for  ceaseless  futures. 
That's  how  it  all  seems  different  to  me:  how  love  refuses  to 

feed  death — how  love  feeds  only  life,  prodigally,  with 
out  end: 
That's  how  it  all  seems  different  to  me:   how  love  takes  no 

revenges  and  buys  and  sells  no   one:    how   love    only 

loves  and  scorns  reward: 
That's  how  it  all  seems  different  to  me:  how  love  standing 

without  a  companion  like  a  tree   in  a  desert  still  finds 

reasons  for  loving. 

It  is  beautiful  to  love  those  who  care  for  you  and  dream  of 

you  and  call  you  comrade: 
It  is   more  beautiful   to   love  those  who  are  in  doubt  about 

you — who  do  not  want  your  love: 


214  OPTIMOS 

If  a  man  expects  pay  for  love  he  has  to  be  wary  how  he 

loves  and  whom  he  trusts: 
I  am  heedless  about  love  because  I  never  charge  my  love  up 

against  you: 
I  do  not  mind  making  mistakes:  what  is  a  mistake  or  two 

against  all  the  love  I  contain? 
The  whole  earth  is  not  too  big  for  me  to  love  in:   and  all 

the  stars — they  are  not  too  big: 
Nothing  exhausts  my  love:   I  go  with  it  wherever  men  are 

and  things  are,  whether  there  is  excuse  for  love  or  no 

excuse  for  love: 
(Is  there  any  world  anywhere  or  any  thing   in  any  world 

anywhere  in  which  there  is  no  excuse  for  love?): 
All  the  people  are  not  too  many  forme  to  love  with:  all  the 

people  of  all  worlds:  they  are  not  too  many: 
I   do  not  run  out  of  love:    it  would  take  more  than  all   the 

globes  in  space  to  drain  me  dry: 
I  spend  my  days  and  nights  with  those  I  love. 


WHEN   I   AM    EASY   ABOUT   LOVE 

When  I  am  easy  about  love  I  am  easy  about  life  and  death: 
It  makes  no  difference  to  me  then  if  the  sun  does  not  shine: 
I  am  not  worried  because  affairs  go  wrong  when  love  goes 

right: 
I  reach  out  and  somehow  everything  falls  into  the  palm  of 

my  hand — 
All  beauty  and  goodness  fall  there,  all  dreaming  and  hoping 

fall  there: 
Though  I  own  no  lands  and  am  without  fame  yet  I  am  as 

rich  as  love: 
The   old  jealousies   slip  away,  the  grudges  and  animosities 

slink  out  of  sight: 


OPTIMOS  215 

Now  all  life  gathers  round  me — all  the  people  and  all  the 

stars  gather: 
For  being  easy  about  love  and  being  easy  about  life  is  like 

being  finally  free: 
For  then  I  go  to  everything  and  everything  comes  to  me  and 

the  dissenting  spheres  are  blended. 

What  is  it  all  about — this  yes  and  no  of  dust  and  the  soul? 
I  do  not  know — I  do  not  need  to  know:   I  am  satisfied  just 

to  keep  on  my  way: 
I  too  ask  questions  and  ask  again  but  I  do  not  have  to  be 

answered: 
The  sun  shines,  my  family  the  crowd  work  and  aspire,  and 

I  love: 

To  me  that  is  enough  and  more  than  enough:  there  is  noth 
ing  beyond  that: 
To  be  loved  is  not  enough:    it   is  something  but  it  is  not 

enough: 
But  to  love — that   is  enough:   that   is  the  substance  at  the 

center  from  which  everything  emerges: 
And  that  is  why  when  I  am  easy  about  love  I  am  easy  about 

you  and  anyone  else: 
And  that  is  why  when  I  am  easy  about  love  I  am  easy  about 

the  wrongs  and  sorrows  of  men: 
For  being  easy  about  love  is  to  know  that  love  will  after  all 

confusions  in  the  end  prevail: 
For  being  easy  about  love  is  to  see  past  the  imperfections  to 

perfection,  past  blindness  to  vision: 
For  being  easy  about  love  is  being  easy  about  the  burdens  I 

must  bear  over  bad  roads  to  my  waiting  children. 

When  I  am  easy  about  love  I  am  easy  about  life  and  death: 
And  then  I  am  easy  about  my  body  and  my  bodily  desires 
and  consummations: 


216  OPTIMOS 

And  then  I  am  easy  about  my  spirit  and   its  forthreaching 

discoveries: 
And  then  I  can  pierce  farther  into  things  different  and  see 

them  way  off  come  together: 
And  so  I  am  easy  about  the  evils  that  without  love  would 

break  my  heart: 
About  my  comrade  whose  dear  daughter  just  died  and  was 

buried  and  about  my  dear  son  who  left  me  long  ago: 
About  all  the  mothers  who  wring  their  despoiled  hands  and 

the  fathers  who  stand  by  their  sides  and  are  silent: 
About  the  wars  and  the  earthquakes  and  the  greeds  which 

men  endure  and  with  which  they  contend: 
I  am  easy  about  it  all  because  I  am  easy  about  love:   I  can 

give  you  no  other  reason  for  it: 
I  am  easy  about  love  because  love  is  easy  about  life  and  life 

is  easy  about  death: 
I  visit  you  with  ceaseless  consolations:    in  days  and  nights 

of  surrender  I  am  with  you  and  in  you: 
You,    my  brothers,  who  are   not  so  easy  about   love — who 

have  yet  to  learn  the  lesson: 
You,  you,  you:  oh!  because  I  am  easy  about  Jove  I  am  easy 

about  you! 

If  I  was  not  easy  about  love  I  would  be  easy  about  nothing, 

And  I  think  I  would  give  up  just  where  I  am  or  where  I 
was  when  I  started, 

And  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  battle  against  the  cruelties  of 
the  world  with  more  than  half  a  heart, 

And  it  is  very  likely  that  I  would  no  longer  be  of  use  to 
you,  my  dear  companions,  for  my  cheer  would  be  gone, 

For  being  easy  about  love  means  being  easy  about  every 
thing: 

For  being  easy  about  love  means  taking  the  worst  and  al 
ways  making  the  best  out  of  it, 


OPTIMOS  217 

For  being  easy  about  love  means  being  so  full  of  life  as  to 
leave  no  room  for  death: 

So  that  being  easy  about  love  is  necessary  for  you  and  for 
me  if  we  are  to  live: 

And  being  easy  about  love  is  necessary  for  states  and  relig 
ions  and  peoples  if  they  are  to  live: 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it:  it  comes  to  me  more  and  more: 
it  more  and  more  steadies  and  enlarges  me: 

Being  easy  about  love — in  no  matter  what  place  or  time  of 
hate,  being  easy  about  love: 

No  matter  what  may  seem  to  make  it  impossible,  being 
easy  about  love: 

When  I  am  easy  about  love  I  am  easy  about  life  and  death. 


IF  I   CONTAINED   ENOUGH   LOVE 

If  I  contained  enough  love, 

If  I  provided  in  my  simple  love  for  all  trespasses  and  all 

failures, 
If  I  had  size  enough  to  see  that  no  man  however  small  is 

too  little  to  be  big, 
If  I  acknowledged  the  griefs  and  still  prevailed  everywhere 

with  my  joys, 
If  I  came  along  after  the  strongest  had  given  up  and  revived 

you  with  my  unequivocal  strength, 
Might  I  not  then  put  a  new  face  on  the  earth  and  give  new 

meanings  to  the  shining  suns? 
Alight  I  not  then  plow  into  every  soil  with  my  gladness  and 

prepare  it  for  adequate  harvests? 
Might  I  not,  O  my  body,  O  my  soul?   might  I  not  be  the 

fellow  and  equal  of  the  passing  years? 

1  who  too  often  drop  behind  might  go  forward  too  with  sus 
tained  nerve: 


218  OPTIMOS 

I  who  am  uncertain  might  become  certain  and  stand  forth 

with  unbeaten  courage. 
I  dont  think  anything  is  lacking  in  the  earth:  the  lack  is  in 

me: 

Just  as  the  lack  of  justice  in  men  is  not  in  men  but  in  me: 
So  that  if  I  lift  up  my  head  and  keep  myself  aloft  I  need  not 

apologize  for  my  height. 
I  have  heard  other  things  said  but  somehow  I  come  to  this 

thing  and  stay  with  it: 

It  seems  final:  it  puts  the  whole  problem  up  to  me: 
Puts  the  universe  up  to  me:  big  as  it  is,  little  as  I  am,  puts 

it  up  to  me. 

If  I  contained  enough  love  it  would  not  matter  how  much 

love  you  contained, 
For  I  could  make  up  for  you  and  for  others  and  have  love  to 

spare : 
And  miracles  would  be  vulgar  in  the  eyes  of  my  love,  which 

would  so  bounteously  encircle  all  need, 
And  the  philosophy  of  those  who  live  in  books  would  seem 

cheap  and  thin  beside  me, 
And  your  facts,  your  numbers,  your  markets,  would  retire 

shamefaced  from  all  competitions: 
For  containing  love  means  containing  life,  and  containing 

enough  love  means  containing  enough  life. 
We  put  our  reliance  on  other  things  when  we  miss  love,  but 

when  we  have  love  love  calls  for  no  allies. 
So  I  charge  all  derelicts  to  my  own  account: 
And  when  I   go  on   the  street  and  see  the  girls  hopelessly 

afloat  there  I  charge  that  to  myself,  too: 
And  the   murderer  who   is  killed  to  keep  the  law  alive — I 

charge  his  murder  against  my  own  total: 
For  I  am  convinced  that  but  for  me  no  girl  would  have  to 

give  anything  but  love  for  love, 


OPTIMOS  219 

And  I  see  plainly  that  but  for  me  no  man  my  brother  would 

do  that  for  which  you  execute  him: 
For  if  I  contained  enough  love  I  would  love  enough  to  hold 

evil  back: 
For  if  I  contained  enough  love  I  would  love  enough  to  put 

good  forward: 
My    love    always    being   on  guard   invisibly  potent   in  the 

silences. 

That  is  why  I  am  not  hard  on  you  or  on  myself  when  we 

dont  just  toe  the  mark: 
That  is  why  I  can  contemplate  even  injustice  without  mad 

anger  though  with  sorrow: 
That  is  why  I  am  willing  to  have  you  try  again  and  claim 

infinite  room  for  myself  in  space  and  time: 
For  the  bill  must  all  be  charged  to  me — the  bill  of  bank 
ruptcy  must  be  charged  to  me: 
If  I  contained  enough  love  it  would  not  matter  what  else  I 

contained  or  you  contained: 
We  might  do  whatever  harm,    yet   love  would   mercifully 

consecrate  us: 
We  might  make  whatever  missteps,  yet  love  would  guide  us 

home: 
The  sun  containing  enough   light   is  not  as  great  as  your 

heart  or  my  heart  containing  enough  love. 

The  trouble  with  the  world  is  that  it  has  thrown  away  love 
for  everything  else: 

Its  commerce  has  thrown  away  love:  its  churches  and  states 
have  thrown  away  love: 

Even  its  priests  have  thrown  away  love  for  their  creeds  and 
the  clothes  they  wear: 

And  when  we  buy  and  sell  love  comes  in  only  for  the  leav 
ings:  love  is  not  first  but  last: 


220  OPTIMOS 

And  even  in  our  loves  love  comes  in  with  an  apology  and 

often  is  not  allowed  in  at  all: 
And  when  we  say  a  man  is  victorious  we  dont  mean  that  he 

loves  above  all  baseness  but  that  he   has   an   income 

above  all  need: 
And  so  we  have  got  used  to  getting  along  with  life  without 

love  in  it: 
And  that  is  why  we  have  wars  and  rob  each  other  in  trade 

and  are  willing  to  kill  our  children  for  profit: 
And  that  is  why  we  can  eat  full  meals  and  forget  the  empty 

wanderers  on  the  street  outside: 

And  that  is  why  we  can  pass  the  wrecks  on  the  broad  ave 
nues  and  not  admit  our  own  responsibility: 
And  that  is  why  we  beat  each  other  down   into  dust  with 

dollars  fighting  dollars  in  fierce  resentment: 
That  is  why:  that  is  why:   I  see  that  is  why:  and  I  see  that 

I  am  the  culprit: 
For  if  I  contained  enough    love  the  world  would  contain 

enough  justice: 
For  if  I  contained  enough  love  there  would  be  no  room  in 

you  or  anyone  for  anything  else  but  the  love  I  disperse. 

I  contain  much  love:  I  feel  its  stir:  I  am  big  and  stern  with 
its  currents  sweeping  within  me: 

0  God!    if  I  could  only  get  it  out!    if  I  could  only  pour  it 

into  the  common  stream! 

Shame  upon  me  that  I  hoard  it  up!  that  I  keep  it  for  my 
self  when  it  belongs  to  all! 

What  ails  me?  why  am  I  so  slow  to  answer  the  world's  call? 
your  call,  O  my  brother? 

What  happens  to  me  that  instead  of  loving  I  talk  of  love — 
instead  of  being  brave  I  talk  of  bravery? 

1  contain  much  love:   I  know  that  I  contain  love  enough  to 

change  the  face  of  the  earth: 


OPTIMOS  221 

Why,  then,  am  I  so  reluctant?   do  I  release  it  in  small  par 
ticles? 
Why  shouldn't  I  just  get  out  of  my  love's  way  and  let  it 

flood  you  all? 
Why  should  I   say  you   do  not  understand  or  the  lords   of 

habit  and  routine  will  resist  me? 
Why  should  I  take  that  as  my  excuse  for  damming  you  up? 

why  should  I  hide  and  dodge  the  sacred  summons? 
I  contain  much  love:   why  should  I  not  let  it  go?   let  it  go 

even  if  it  means  ruin  as  well  as  fertility? 
Why  should  I  rein  myself  in?  how  can  I  kill  my  love  and 

expect  to  live? 
How  can  I  stand  before   my  judges  and  deny  it  and  think 

that  my  acquittal  liberates  me? 
If  I  contained  enough  love. 


I  THINK  MY  LOVE  DOES  NOT  KNOW 

I  think  my  love  does  not  know, 
I  think  my  love  is  satisfied   not  to  know — 
I  think  my  love  only  loves — loves,  loves   and   loves   again: 
I  think  my  love  does  not  know. 

My  love  used  to  be  eternally  asking  questions  that  could  not 

be  answered, 
Now  I  think  my  love  asks  no  questions  and  would  be  sorry 

if  any  questions  were  answered. 
My  love  was  once  eager  for  the  return  of  love,  eager  for  the 

full  return  of  love, 
Now  my   love   does  not  care,  now   my  love  will  make  no 

claims. 
My  love  once  put  itself  into  scales  and  weighed  itself  and 

still  called  itself  love, 


222  OPTIMOS 

Now  my  love  has  thrown  away  its  scales  and  proclaims  that 
love  is  not  consistent  with  weight  and  measure. 

Once  my  love  was  jealous  and  put  love  into  a  prison  and  put 
a  price  upon  love, 

Now  my  love  welcomes  love  wherever  and  however  it  ap 
pears  and  has  turned  its  back  upon  the  market. 

I  think  my  love  is  no  longer  careful  of  itself  but  is  careless 
of  itself, 

I  think  my  love  has  suffered  all  the  hells  of  love  and  enjoyed 
all  the  heavens  of  love  and  has  survived  both  the  heav 
ens  and  hells  of  love, 

I  think  my  love  does  not  ask  for  privileges  but  just  takes 
what  comes  and  is  happy, 

I  think  my  love  does  not  require  attention  but  likes  to  be 
about  and  mix  anonymously  with  the  crowd, 

I  think  my  love  is  willing  to  be  neglected  and  hated  because 
neither  neglect  nor  hate  can  hurt  my  love, 

I  think  my  love  is  very  much  in  love  with  the  flesh  but 
always  stops  short  of  surrender  to  the  flesh, 

I  think  my  love  is  very  much  in  love  with  the  soul  but  al 
ways  stops  short  of  surrender  to  the  soul, 

I  think  my  love  knows  very  little  or  nothing  about  itself  but 
is  satisfied  to  love  and  love  and  know  nothing. 

I  could  not  tell  what  love  has  been  to  me  since  the  day  that 

love  made  way  for  love, 
I  could  not  tell  what  love  has  been  to  me  since  it  stopped 

asking  questions  and  just  went  about  its  business  in  the 

world. 
I  found   that  love  had  only  one  thing  to  do  in  the  world, 

that  love  was  only  to  love, 
I  found  that  love  had  no  more  to  do  with  the  saints  than 

with  the  sinners  of  the  world, 


OPTIMOS  223 

I  found  that  love  had  no  more  to  do  with  the  lovers  than 

with  the  haters  of  the  world, 
I  found  that  love  was  not  to  buy  and  sell  and  was  not  to 

exchange  love, 
I   found  that   love  was  only  to  give   away  love  and  was  to 

give  away  love  and  was  to  give  away  love, 
I  found  that  love  was  not  to  condemn  sin  and  praise  virtue 

but  was  only  to  love  and  see  neither  sin  nor  virtue, 
I   found  that  love  belonged   to  man  not  because  man  was 

good  or  bad  but  because  man  was  man. 
I  could  not  tell  what  love  has  been  to  me  since  love  resigned 

all  its  emoluments  and  conditions  and  submitted  itself 

to  love  alone. 

My  love  was  never  happy  when   it  thought  it  knew  what 

love  was  or  thought  it  needed  to  know, 
My  love  was  never  fair  and  generous  when  it  thought  love 

was  reward  and  love  was  service, 

My  love  was  never  love  when  it  belonged  to  the  tempera 
ture  and  to  the  north  and  south  of  the  compass, 
My  love  only  became  love  when  it  cast  aside  all  guides  and 

lost  all  reckoning  of  latitude  and  longitude, 
My  love  was  only  love  when  it  threw  away  all  records  and 

prospectuses  and  ignored  the  challenge  of  time, 
My  love  was  only  love  when  it  passed  unrecognized  into  the 

general  heart  and  became  the  bread  and  water  of  its 

daily  life. 

I  used  to  try  to  be  reasonable  with  love  but  love  escaped  my 

reason, 
I  used  to  ask  love  to  be  reasonable  with  me  but  I  escaped 

love's  reason, 
I  used  to  indulge  my  love  in  the  orderly  and  usual  ways  but 

love  took  refuge  in  chaos  and  mystery, 


224  OPTIMOS 

I  used  to  submit  love  to  the  focus  of  my  two  eyes  but  love 

lost  all  perspective, 
I  used  to  key  love  to  the  partisan  tones  of  my  two  ears  but 

love  reverted  to  discord. 

I  think  my  love  does  not  know, 
I  think  my  love  is  satisfied  not  to  know, 
I  think  my  love  is  so  pleased  with  love  it  has  no  desires  be 
yond  love, 
I  think  my  love  only  loves — loves,  loves  and  loves  again. 


I     DO     NOT    SEEM    TO    HAVE    WORDS    FOR 

YOU 

I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight: 

Love  does  not  always  have  things  to  say. 

Love  looks  at  the  stars  and  says  nothing, 

Love  looks  in  a  woman's  face  or  a  man's  face  or  a  child's 
face  and  says  nothing, 

Love  meets  love  in  the  consummating  equalities  of  the  flesh 
and  the  spirit  and  says  nothing, 

Love  is  not  less  worth  while,  love  is  more  worth  while,  be 
cause  of  the  silences  of  love: 

I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight. 

I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight: 

It  may  be  that  the  stars  in  the  skies  have  words, 

It  may  be  that  the  waves  of  the  sea  have  words, 

It  may  be  that  the  love  I  bore  you  yesterday  has  words, 

It  may  be  that   the   love   I  am  to  bear  you  tomorrow  has 

words, 
It  may  be  that  the  street  has  words,  and  the  opera,  and  the 

things  you  enjoy,  that  all  have  words, 


OPTIMOS  225 

It  may  be  that  the  house  has  words,  and  the  locked  doors, 

and  the  things  you  grieve  about,  that  all  have  words, 
It  may  be  that  the  money  you  make  has  words,  and  the 

money  you  lose,  that  money  has  wounding  or  healing 

words, 
It  may  be  that  all  things  but  me  have  words,  are  voluble, 

and  swear  to  their  loyalty  in  words, 
It  may  be,  it  may  be:  who  knows!     I  am  silent  here,  O  so 

silent,  and  do  not  know: 
I  sit  here  and  regard  you  and  drink  you   in  and  have  no 

words  to  say, 
I  hear  your  voice,  I  see  your  open  arms,  I  am  beckoned  by 

the  open  door,  but  I  have  no  words  to  say, 
I  read  your  dear  letters,  so  full  of  love — they  come  to  me 

flooding  me  every  day — but  I  have  no  words  to  say, 
I  feel  the  invitation  of  your  body  and  the  invitation  of  your 

soul,  and  have  no  words  to  say: 
Something  O  so  pregnant  and  certain  stops  me  where  I  am 

and  closes  the  exit  of  words — 
The  beautiful  gate  of  words  is  closed,  the  beautiful  gate  of 

love  is  open, 
The  meanings  of  words  themselves  are  washed  clean  in  the 

silences: 
I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight. 

I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight: 

The  casual  days  are  so  full  of  words  that  beg  and  borrow 
and  steal, 

The  casual  days  are  so  full  of  words  that  will  not  let  love 
alone. 

Now  the  heart  is  changed — it  neither  asks  nor  gives,  it  just 
loves, 

Now  something  within  me  tells  me  that  words  must  here 
after  let  love  alone, 


226  OPTIMOS 

Now  the  roots  of  the  tree  tell  me  how  well  they  get  along 

without  words, 
Now  life   itself,  all   of  life,  and   death   itself,  all  of  death, 

tell  me  how  life  and  death  get  along  without  words, 
So  that  I  am  satisfied  to  be  with  you  or  away  from  you,  my 

love,  without  words, 
So  that  I  am  after  all  the  prisoning  agreements  of  words  set 

free  in  the  worshipful  stillness: 
I  do  not  seem  to  have  words  for  you  tonight. 


WHEN    YOU    DEFER    TO    LOVE    IN   A    BOOK 

When  you  defer  to  love  in  a  book, 

When  you  feel  that  there   must  be   something  wrong  with 

love, 
When  you  look  around  you  wondering  if  those  who  see  you 

may  not  impeach  love, 

When  you  try  love  by  some  measure  not  a  measure  of  love, 
When  the  opinion  of  the  world  takes  the  place  of  the  opin 
ion  of  love, 
When    to    love    is  thought  dangerous    and   to   not  love   is 

thought  safe, 
When  you  wonder  if  the  legislature  may  not  set  the  bounds 

of  love, 
When  you  defer  to  love  in  a  book  about  love  and  doubt  of 

love  in  a  life  full  of  love, 
Then  I  call  you  to  order,  then  I  return  you  rejected  to  your 

soul, 
You  whose  tried  years  have  failed  because  they  were  afraid 

of  their  love. 

Was  love  only  meant  to  be  talked  about  and  then  put  away? 
Was  love  only  meant  to  be  ashamed  of  and  hurried  out  of 

sight? 


OPTIMOS  227 

Is  love  according  to  law  all  right  and  love  according  to  life 

all  wrong? 
Are  you  brave  with  love  in  print  and  cowardly  with  love  in 

your  blood? 
Do  you  think  that  anything  else  may   be   bravely   avowed 

and  that  love  is  not  to  be  bravely  avowed? 
Are  you  willing  to  consort  with  love  in  the  shut  and  barred 

night  and  unwilling  to  consort  with  love  in  the  wide 

open  day? 
You  tremble   for  fear  that  some   one  has  heard   you  speak 

honestly  about  love — 

The  woman  in  you  trembles  for  fear  seeing  the  man, 
The  man  in  you  trembles  for  fear  seeing  the  woman. 
Do  you  only  keep  love  for  special  hours  and  places  and  only 

love  when  you  think  nobody  is  looking? 
I   say   that   if  there   is  anything  wrong  when  you  love  the 

wrong  is  not  in  love  but  the  wrong  is  in  you, 
I  say  that  it  may  be  safe  to  doubt  any  thing  else  but  that  it 

is  never  safe  to  doubt  love, 
I   say  that  you  may  doubt  your  money  and  your  fame  and 

your  virtue  but  that  you  may  not  doubt  your  love: 
I  say  such  things  to  you  with  a  hot  tongue  so  that  you  may 

know  I  am  dead  in  earnest  about  love, 
I  say  that  you  are  in  grave  danger  of  destruction  when  you 

run  away  from  love  in  life, 
When  you  defer  to  love  in  a  book. 


I   TAKE   LOVE   AT   ITS   WORD 

I  take  love  at  its  word: 

When  things  seem  to  be  going  wrong   I   take   love  at   its 

word: 
When  the  sun  is  eclipsed  I  take  the  sun  at  its  word, 


228  OPTIMOS 

When   my  dreams   fail   to   come   true  I  take   my  dreams  at 

their  word, 

When  I  lie  languishing  in  prison  I  take  freedom  at  its  word, 
When  evil  seems  to  triumph  I  take  good  at  its  word: 
In  whatever  shadow  of  sorrow  I  take  joy  at  its  word, 
In  whatever  failure  I  take  success  at  its  word — 
When  the  heart  stops  beating  I  take  the  heart  at  its  word, 
When  death  prevails  over  life  I  take  life  at  its  word. 
The  light  can  never  set   me   aside:    I  take  the  light  at   its 

word: 
And  hope — hope  can  never  set  me  aside:    I  take  hope  at  its 

word : 
I  who  love  for  forever:  I  take  love  at  its  word. 

The  tree  that  is  fallen  to  the  ground, 
The  body  that  is  violated  and  diseased, 
The  ideals  that  are  defeated  in  battle, 
The  children  that  were  born  but  failed  to  grow  up, 
The  planter  who  is  not  allowed  to  pick  the  fruit  of  his  seed- 
cast, 

The  woman  who  is  married  to  the  man  she  does  not  love, 
The  man  who  is  married  to  the  woman  he  does  not  love, 
The  singer  whose  voice  does  not  sing, 
The  writer  whose  words  do  not  tell  their  story, 
The  play  that  the  people  will  not  come  to  see, 
The  ship  that  never  gets  into  port: 

All  the  things  that  were  designed  and  do  not  fulfil  their  de 
sign: 

Even  the  honest  man  who  does  not  fulfil  his  design  but  be 
comes  a  thief, 
Even  the  lover  who  does  not  fulfil  his  design  but  learns  to 

hate, 

Even  the  Cain  who  does  not  fulfil  his  design  but  kills  his 
brother: 


OPTIMOS  229 

No  matter  who,  who  does  not  fulfil  his  design  and  is  in  de 
spair, 

I  say  to  all:  whatever  you  may  be,  I  take  you  at  your  word: 
Whatever  you  may  have  lost  you  have  not  lost  my  love: 
For  I  who  love  for  forever:  I  take  love  at  its  word. 

Jesus  with  the  nails  through  his  hands  took  love  at  its  word, 
Socrates  with  the  hemlock  at  his  lips  took  love  at  its  word, 
Whitman  in  poverty  and  obloquy  took  love  at  its  word, 
John  Brown  on  Virginia's  scaffold  took  love  at  its  word: 
Are  you  afraid,  you  at  your   daily  job,  to   take  love  at  its 

word  ? 
Are  you  willing  to  take  hate  at  its  word  while  you  refuse  to 

take  love  at  its  word? 
Is  it  so  easy  to  take  sorrow  at  its  word  and  be  satisfied  with 

sorrow  ? 
Is   it  so  hard   to  take  gladness  at  its  word  and  be  satisfied 

with  gladness? 
Even  if  the  seed  does  not  flower  I  will  take  the  seed  at  its 

word, 

Even  if  the  foundation  is  never  built  upon  I  take  the  foun 
dation  at  its  word, 
Even  if  the  idea  is  never  put  into  a  deed  I  take  the  idea  at 

its  word. 

I  am  not  thwarted  by  delays  and  miscarriages: 
I  know  that  while  the  clock  may  go  wrong  time  must  go 

right. 
I  look  into  an  open  grave:  they  have  just  put  my  young  boy 

down  there: 

God  help  me!  it  is  a  blow  over  the  heart: 
But  I  say  that  though  the  grave  may  be  dug  deep  I  take  my 

young  boy  at  his  word, 
And  I  say  that  though  the  Devil  may  play  his  part  I  take 

God  at  his  word. 


230  OPTIMOS 

I   take  love  at  its  word: 

There  is  nothing  so  bad  I  cannot  take  good  at  its  word, 

There  is  nothing  so  ugly  I  cannot  take  beauty  at  its  word, 

There  is  no  cruelty  so  foul  I  cannot  take  kindness  at  its 
word, 

There  is  no  mind  so  bereaved  I  cannot  take  genius  at  its 
word, 

There  is  nothing  of  so  little  account  I  cannot  take  riches  at 
its  word: 

And  that  is  why  I  am  happy  and  can  come  back  from  every 
where  bringing  good  reports: 

Bringing  fair  and  noble  reports  of  love  from  wherever  I 
come  back — 

For  I  who  love  for  forever:  I  take  love  at  its  word. 


I   LIKE   YOUR   LOVE  THE   BEST   OF   ALL 

I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all: 

It  does  not  ask  things  of  me  for  love's  sake, 

It  does  not  demand  things  of  me  for  love's  sake, 

It  does  not  send  me  away  for  love's  sake, 

It  does  not  call  me  to  itself  for  love's  sake, 

It  acknowledges  no  debts  incurred  for  love's  sake, 

It  places  no  debts  upon  my  heart  for  love's  sake, 

It  just  lets  me  alone,  just  lets  love  alone,  for  love's  sake, 

It  just  loves  and  lets  everything  else  take  care  of  itself,  for 

love's  sake: 
Yes,  I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all. 

I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all: 
I  can  feel  comfortable  with  your  love, 

I  can  nestle  up  to  your  love  like  a  child  that  draws  life  from 
the  breast  of  its  mother  and  cannot  speak  words, 


OPTIMOS  231 

I  can  feel  at  home  with  your  love  wherever  I  happen  to  be, 
I  can  stand  free  of  obligation  in  the  presence  of  your  love, 
I  can  stand  exalted  in  faith  in  the  absence  of  your  love, 
I  can  go  to  bed  at  night  knowing  that  your  love  is  good  for 

the  next  day, 
I  can  take  ship  and  sail  to  another  world  knowing  that  your 

love  is  good  for  that  other  world. 
Is  it  not  beautiful  to  belong  to  a  love  that  does  not  make 

claims  for  itself? 
Is  it  not  beautiful  to  not  belong  to  any  love  but  to  live  the 

life  of  love  away  from  the  life  of  ownership? 
Is  it  not  beautiful  to  belong  to  a  love  that  does  not  belong 

to  you? 
Yes,  I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all. 

I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all: 

It  does  not  sue  for  favors  or  coquet  for  attentions, 

It  takes  what  love  gives  when  love  need  not  bestow, 

It  finds  love  rich  enough  in  possessing  love, 

It  refuses  to  beg  for  love  or  to  steal  love  or  to  take  love 

from  the  duty  of  love, 
It  knows  that   the   desert   may  be  sterile  but  that   deserted 

love  can  never  be  sterile, 

It  knows  that  love  births  love  in  prophetic  inheritances, 
It  gives  and  takes  without  sanction,  it  is  fair  to  love  with 
out  law, 

It  does  not  cry  an  anathema  upon  the  love  that  goes, 
It  does  not  fall  down  and  worship  the  love  that  comes, 
It  does  not  time  love  by  a  clock  or  weigh  love  in  a  scale, 
It  understands  that  the  lover    is   not  necessary  to  love  but 

that  love  alone  is  necessary  to  love: 
Yes,  I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all. 

I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all : 


232  OPTIMOS 

It  never  calls  me  for  its  pleasure,  it  never  petulantly  sends 

me  away: 

It  is  like  the  universe:    do  what  I  may  I  could  not  get  out 
side  of  the  universe: 

It  is  like  the  sun:  it  gives  me  life  and  asks  for  no  receipt, 
It  is  like  immortality:    it  gives  me  time  and  never  presents 

a  bill, 
It  is  like  so  many  things  that  are  big  enough  to  satisfy  the 

thirst  of  the  long  enchained  spirit: 
It  is  like,  Oh,  your  love   is  so  much  like  itself — so  much 

like  love, 
In  whatever  sorrow  or  joy  of  the  day  is  so  much  like  itself 

— so  much  like  love, 
In  whatever  success  or  failure  of  ambition  is  so  much  like 

itself — so  much  like  love, 
In  whatever  crime  and  jealousy  and  apostasy  is  so  much  like 

itself — so  much  like  love: 
It  is  like,  Oh,  your  love  is  so  much   like  itself — so  much 

like  love, 
So  much — so  much — so  much  like  itself:   now  there  is  no 

more  any  doubt  about  it: 
I  like  your  love  the  best  of  all. 


I'M   JUST   TALKING   ALL   THE   TIME   ABOUT 

LOVE 

I'm  just  talking  all  the  time  about  love: 

I  try  sometimes  to  talk  of  other  things  but  I  come  back  to 

love: 
To  my  simple  love  for  men  and  women,  to  my  love  for  you, 

to  my  love  for  life: 
Not  caring  at  all  what  may  be  said  of  me  because  of  it, 

coming  back  to  love: 


OPTIMOS  233 

From  whatever  excursion  into  other  fields,  where  other  mo 
tives  prevail,  coming  back  to  love: 

Something  in  my  heart  driving  me:  something  in  you  im 
pelling  me:  something:  something: 

The  casual  day  not  satisfying  me:  the  casual  ambitions  and 
rewards: 

The  being  thought  a  lot  of  not  satisfying  me:  the  fame:  the 
noise  of  popular  approval: 

Rather  shrinking  from  that:  rather  preferring  to  pass  around 
seeing  but  remaining  unseen: 

Putting  in  my  word  for  love  wherever  I  can:  even  when  it 
seems  out  of  place  or  unwelcome: 

Just  saying  love  everywhere  and  everyhow  so  that  all  may 
hear:  saying  love: 

Lowering  my  voice  in  the  noise  so  I  may  be  heard  in  the 
silences: 

Raising  my  voice  in  the  silences  so  I  may  be  heard  in  the 
noise: 

But  saying  the  same  thing  wherever:  saying  the  same  thing: 
saying  love,  just  love: 

Making  people  mad:  appearing  at  the  wrong  time:  saying 
love,  love,  whether  they  listen  or  are  deaf: 

All  I  write,  do,  dream,  look  for,  being  love:  all  I  work  for 
being  love: 

Just  love:  just  love:  just  love. 

They  ask  me:  What  is  this  message  you  bring  with  such  a 

show  of  purpose  and  joy? 
What  can  I  say?     I  say:  Love:  and  I  say:  Love:  that's  all  I 

can  say: 
And  they  look  at  each  other  and  they  look  at  me  and  they 

smile:  I  know  what  they  mean: 
And  then  the  priest  asks:  Why  dont  you  bring  religion?  you 

bring  only  love? 


234  OPTIMOS 

And  then  the  statesman  asks:  Why  dont  you  bring  laws?  you 

bring  only  love? 
And  then  the  singer  asks:  Why  dont  you  bring  us  harmonies? 

you  bring  only  love? 
And  then  the  poet  asks:  Why  dont  you  bring  us  songs?  you 

bring  only  love? 
And  then  they  all  ask:  Why  dont  you  bring  something  else? 

you  bring  only  love? 
And  they  gather  about  me:   they  jeer  me:   they  are  like  an 

angry  mob: 
Why   dont  I   bring  them   trade  and  power  and  conquest? 

Why  dont  I?     I  bring  only  love: 
Why  dont  I  bring  them  houses  and  ease  and  incomes  and 

luxuries?     Why  dont  I?     I  bring  only  love: 
Why  should  I  bring  heaven  along  with  me  to  interfere  with 

the  earth?     Why  shouldn't  I  let  the  earth  alone? 
Why  should  I  stand  in  the  way  of  the  masters  and  the  lead 
ers  and  the  elect  with  my  senseless  call? 
What  can  I  say?     I  say:  Love:  and  I  say:  Love:  that's  all  I 

can  say: 
And  there  they  stand,   the  best  citizens,  interposing  their 

indignant  denial: 
Love?   oh!    love  would  be  in  place  for  somewhere  else  but 

not  for  here: 
Love?    oh!    love  would  be  in  time  for  some  other  year  but 

not  for  today: 
And  so  I  am  laughed  at  and  hurried  out  of  sight  for  fear 

some  of  the  guileless  children  might  see  me  and  be 

deceived: 
And  so  I  am  gagged  and  bound  and  put  into  prison  for  fear 

some  of  the  dreamers  might  hear  me  and  be  misled: 
I,  who  can  bring  only  love:    I,  who  bring  just  love:   I,  who 

have  left  everything  else  behind  me  and  brought  just 

love: 


OPTIMOS  235 

I,  who,  being  asked:   what   do  you  bring  the  need  of  the 
world?  can  only  say:  just  love. 

Just  love:  I  bring  just  love:  I  talk  of  nothing  else:  nothing: 
And  you  joke  about  it:  you  smoke  your  cigars  over  me  and 

drink  your  wines: 
But  it  seems  to  me  that  no  one  has  ever  brought  anything 

else  that  the  world  finally  cared  for  but  just  love: 
It  seems  to  me   that  Jesus  brought  just  love,  though  you 

hung  him  for  it,  to  be  sure: 
It  seems  to  me  that  Socrates  brought  just  love,  though  you 

made  him  poison  himself  for  it,  to  be  sure: 
It  seems  to  me  that  all  your  saints  and  singers  in  all  time 

brought  you  just  love,  though  you    sacrificed  most  of 

them  for  it,  to  be  sure: 
It  seems  to  me  that  every  man  you  think  worth  while  way 

back  and  all  things  you  think  worth  while  brought  just 

love,  though  you  were  at  first  in  a  great  fury  about  it, 

to  be  sure: 
So  it  is  not  surprising  that  you  feel  sore  on  me  and  make  it 

hard  for  me  to  endure  life: 
You  look  up  at  the  walls  of  your  houses  and  your  galleries 

of    art    and    everywhere  see    the    faces  of    those  who 

brought  just  love,  to  be  sure: 
But  you   do  not  learn  from  that:   you  go  on  rejecting  the 

lovers    just    the    same:    maiming,    hating,   killing   the 

lovers : 
You   meet  me  with   the   old  antipathy:    I  bring  just  love: 

love,  you  say,  is  just  what  you  dont  want: 
As   if  anything   in   the  universe  was   for  anything  but  just 

love:   as  if  the  trees  or  the  seas  were  for  anything  but 

just  love: 
As  if  anything  in  human  life,  the  feeding,  the  labor  of  men, 

was  for  anything  but  just  love  in  the  end:  just  love: 


236  OPTIMOS 

As  if  anyone  could  think  of  anything  anywhere  in  any  time 

that  was  for  anything  but  just  love: 
As  if  your  children  born  out  of  you  or  you  born  out  of  your 

mother,  O  woman,  was  for  anything  but  just  love: 
As  if  even  blindness  and  cruelty  and  wrong  was  finally  for 

anything  but  just  love: 
As  if  it  could  be  for  anything  but  just  love  and  be  anything 

at  all:  as  if  it  could,  O  my  brothers: 
As  if  if  it  was  for  anything  but  just  love  the  whole  business 

would  not  go  to  pieces: 
As  if   if   it  was   for  anything  but  just  love   it  could  have 

started  at  all,  or  anyone  or  you  or  I  would  ever  have 

emerged  from  the  mysteries  into  life  at  all: 
As  if  anything  could  have  gone  on  or  could  go  on  for  a 

minute  without  just  love. 

I'm  just  talking  all  the  time  about  love: 

And  maybe  I'm  nearer  the  meanings  of  things  than  anyone 

who  talks  about  anything  else: 
And  maybe  your  laugh  at  me  is  out  of  place:  maybe  I  should 

be  the  one  to  laugh: 
And  maybe  some   day  you  will  put  my  portrait  upon  your 

walls  and  speak  well  of  it  after  I  am  dead: 
I  who  go  about  among  you  just  talking  all  the  time  about 

love. 


ALL   WAYS    LEAD   TO    MY   HEART 

All  ways  lead  to  my  heart: 

Out  of  confusions  and  rebellions,  out  of  venoms  and  revolts, 

lead  to  my  heart: 
Though  they  come  in  the  darkness  in  acts  of  crime,  lead  to 

my  heart: 


OPTIMOS  237 

Though  they  are  wayward  and  would  prefer  to  go  some 
where  else,  somehow  lead  to  my  heart: 

By  some  mysterious  impetus  back  of  what  they  will  to  do 
or  not  to  do,  lead  to  my  heart: 

All  things  and  all  people,  clean  or  corrupt,  divine  or  dev 
ilish,  lead  to  my  heart: 

Sometimes  eager,  sometimes  dreaming  of  me  and  of  the 
voyage,  lead  to  my  heart: 

Haters  and  lovers,  the  wronged  and  the  wrongdoers,  win 
ners  and  losers,  lead  to  my  heart: 

Lead  to  my  heart:  come  chanting  praises  or  venting  curses: 
lead  to  my  heart: 

Those  who  understand  and  those  who  do  not  understand, 
the  philosopher  and  the  fool,  lead  to  my  heart: 

Lead  to  my  heart  humbling  it:  lead  to  my  heart  making  it 
proud: 

Lead  to  my  heart,  opening  its  last  door,  provoking  it  to 
the  last  hospitality: 

Lead  to  my  heart:  all  ways:  ways  of  question  and  ways  of 
answer:  lead  to  my  heart: 

Oh!  lead  to  my  heart:  shaking  the  last  arrogant  superiority 
off  its  throne. 

You  girl  of  the  street — where  are  you  going? 

The  world  condemns  you:  makes  you  what  you  are — then 
condemns  you: 

But  you:  you  dont  condemn  yourself:  therefore  you  are  not 
condemned:  there  is  still  a  way  out: 

Yes,  there  is  still  a  way  out:  a  true  way  out  of  a  false  rela 
tion:  and  you  will  take  it: 

I  know  you  will  take  it — for  the  true  way  is  the  way  to  me: 
the  way  to  my  heart. 

You  girl  whom  I  love,  whom  I  meet  and  make  most  of — 
you  whom  the  others  make  least  of: 


238  OPTIMOS 

You  girl  of  the  street,  you  girl  of  my  heart — where  are  you 

going? 
You  are  going  the  way  of  your  regrets:   that  is  the  way  to 

me: 
You  are  going  the  ways  of  your  pain  and  tears:  they  are  the 

ways  to  me: 
You  may  slip  down  but  you  cant  slip  away  from  me:  I  will 

be  at  the  bottom  to  break  your  fall. 
You  girl  of  the  street,  you  girl  of  my  farthest  love:  hear 

what  I  tell  you:  take  my  word  for  it:  I  am  not  deceiv 
ing  you: 
All  ways  lead  to  my  heart:  even  the  puzzled  shambled  ways 

of  unbridled  desire  lead  to  my  heart. 
Where  are  you  going?  you  are  going  somewhere:  do  you  ask 

yourself  where  you  are  going? 
You  are  going  where  I  go — you  are  going  nowhere  else: 

there  is  no  other  place: 
We  either  go  to  the  same  place  together  or  we  go  nowhere 

at  all. 
You  girl  of  the  street,  you  from  whom  those  who  use  you 

shrink  in  scorn: 
You  from  whom  I  dont  shrink,  whom  I  dont  scorn,  though 

I  dont  mean  to  use  you: 
You  girl  of  the  street,  you  are  going  somewhere:  yes:  and  I 

will  tell  you  where  you  are  going: 
You  are  going  straight  to  me:  in  shame  or  praise  whichever 

— you  are  going  straight  to  me: 
You  have  no  choice — you  cant  go  the  way  of  disaster  and 

death:  there  is  no  such  way: 
No:    you  girl   of  the   street — you,  loved  most  of  my  much 

love:  you  will  go  the  way  of  renewal  and  life:   that  is 

the  only  way  there  is: 
You:  you  girl  of  the  street:  you  will  go  the  way  the  rest  go 

or  no  one  will  go  anywhere: 


OPTIMOS  239 

To  leave  you  behind  in  the  gutter  would  be  to  leave  the 
whole  scheme  behind  in  the  gutter — gods,  men  and 
worlds: 

But  you  will  not  be  left  behind:  you:  you  will  go  the  way 
to  me:  all  ways  lead  to  my  heart. 

And  do  you  think,  you  girl  of  the  street,  that  because  I  sin 
gle  you  out  and  specify  you  I  mean  to  insult  you? 

No,  it's  not  that:  I  mean  to  glorify  you:  I  mean  to  show 
that  you  who  most  die  for  us  must  most  live  for  us  in 
the  end. 

I  might  have  selected  any  one  not  you — any  other  of  the 
children  of  men  and  women — and  tallied  the  lesson  in 
him,  in  her:  any  other: 

But  I  chose  you — I  thought  to  lift  you  out  of  the  crowd  and 
identify  the  others  through  you: 

Through  you,  dear  girl  of  the  street,  whose  disgrace  is  our 
disgrace  no  less: 

Through  you,  dear  girl  of  the  street,  who  carry  the  soul 
widest  and  deepest  towards  the  revelation  it  must 
acknowledge: 

Through  you,  dear  girl  of  the  street,  my  sister,  my  comrade, 
my  lover,  whose  unsoiled  kiss  wipes  away  the  igno 
miny  of  the  world. 

I  would  feel  sorry  for  myself  if  all  ways  did  not  lead  to  my 

heart: 
I   would   feel   sorry — it    would    seem    to    me  as    if   I    had 

mournfully   failed  if  I  stood  aloof  any  where  from  any 

one  or  any  thing: 
If  I  was   detached,  an  atom  apart,  having  aspirations  and 

affections  secluded,  I  would  be  like  a  man  dead: 
For  the  living  live  everywhere  and  live  all  over — in  body 

and  spirit  live: 


240  OPTIMOS 

For  the  living  love  everywhere  and  love  all  over — in  body 

and  spirit  love: 
And  so  I  am  inevitably  ahead  of  you  at  the  end  of  whatever 

journey  waiting  for  you  with  open  arms: 
Even  if  you  come  wrong,  even  if  you  come  defiled,  even  if 

you  come  the  worse  off  for  human  wear — waiting  for 

you  with  open  arms. 
I  want  you  to  know  it,  I  want  you  to  bank  on  it:  that  you 

can   do   nothing   to   separate   yourself   from    my    love: 

nothing: 
I  want  you  to  understand  that  whoever  gets  tired  of  waiting 

I  never  get  tired — that  I  remain  patiently  smiling  upon 

all  postponements: 
The  ways  are  all  always  open — the  doors  are  taken  down: 

the  ways  all  lead  to  me: 
I  gather  all  your  villainies  together:  you  bring  them  to  me: 

all  your  mistakes,  all  your  vices: 
I  gather  all  that  you  bring  together  and  throw  it  away — and 

I  keep  you: 

0  darlings,  contrary  as  you    may  have  been — O   darlings, 

jealous,  viperous  as  you  have  been — I  keep  you! 

The  horrors  that  you  trail  along  with  you — the  filth,  the 
corruption,  the  despair:  I  take  all  that  and  throw  it 
away — and  I  keep  you: 

You,  plotters  and  murderers:  you,  thieves  and  liars  and  glut 
tons:  I  keep  you: 

1  throw  your  fraud  away:  I  throw  your  barbarisms  and  appe 

tites  away:    I   keep  you. 
I   do   not  argue   about  you:   all  ways  lead  to  my  heart:  you 

come:  I  take  and  keep  you  and  refuse  to  give  you  up: 
I   have  uses  for  you — the  final  divine  uses  for  you:  uses  of 

joy  and  delight:  uses  of  dreams: 
The  world  has  robbed  you:   you  have  robbed  yourself:   now 

you  come  to  me:  take  what  belongs  to  you: 


OPTIMOS  241 

And  what  does  belong  to  you?  I  belong  to  you:  and  all 
the  life  and  love  that  any  one  else  has — that  belongs  to 
you: 

Take  it:  all  ways  lead  to  my  heart;  you  ask  why  you  should 
come?  I  only  say:  come! 

All  ways  lead  to  my  heart:  here  in  my  heart  life  shall  be 
paid  off  with  love: 

All  the  sorrows,  all  the  errors,  all  the  tragedies,  shall  be 
paid  off  with  love: 

Tonight,  here,  now,  any  minute,  to  all,  in  full,  without 
stint,  without  qualm: 

Through  ten  thousand  ways  men  and  women  and  children 
pouring  themselves  to  me:  uplifting  their  helpless 
hands:  plead  for  their  pay! 

No  matter  which  way  they  turn  their  faces  they  turn  to 
wards  me:  all  ways  lead  to  my  heart: 

No  matter  how  much  they  may  be  in  doubt,  that  much  they 
go  towards  me:  all  doubts  lead  to  my  heart: 

And  if  I  was  to  close  out  one  single  way  leading  to  my 
heart  all  the  other  ways  would  be  impassable: 

And  so  they  all  come  to  me:  the  hurt  and  those  who  hurt 
them,  the  victims  and  those  who  harm  them:  all  ways 
lead  to  my  heart: 

And  the  base  and  the  magnanimous,  the  tainted  and  the 
pure,  here  in  my  heart  at  last  together,  reclaim,  re 
store,  their  shaken  faith:  in  me  reclaim,  restore: 

All  ways  lead  to  my  heart. 


I    DO    NOT    FEEL   GRATEFUL 

I  do  not  feel  grateful  when  you  are  good  to  me — 
I   do  not  get  down  on  my  knees  and  say  obsequious  things 
to  you: 


242  OPTIMOS 

Nothing  inside  me  tells  me  to  do  it  and  I  feel  that  nothing 

inside  you  tells  you  to  ask  it: 
For  if  anything  I  give  you  or  anything  you  give  me  reduces 

the  equality  of  our  love,  if  your  gift  or  my  gift  casts  a 

shadow, 
Then   love  flies:    then   love   can   no   longer  breathe   in   the 

close  air: 
Which  makes  me  sure,  O  dear  one,  as  between  us  that  our 

love  would  resent  definition  and  excuse, 
Which   makes   me  sure  that  your  being   decent  with  me  or 

my  being  decent  with  you  could  have  no  returns — 
That  love  exacts  no  fealty,  that  love  refuses  a  receipt:  that 

love  loves  and  lets  love  go: 
That  being  grateful  would  be  as  if  we  looked  for  profit  in 

the  give  and  take  of  our  sacredest  passion. 
And  now  you  know  why  I   do   not  feel  grateful  when  you 

are  good  to  me. 


WE  WERE  JUST 
BROTHERS 


Are  you  so  sure  ?  are  you  so  sure  ? 

When  you  sentence  your  comrade  to  hate  rather  than  to  love — are  you 

so  sure  ? 
When  you  sentence  your  comrade  to  death  rather  than  to  life — are  you 

so  sure  ? 
Are  you  so  sure  ?  are  you  so  sure  ? 


Everybody  leads  you  to  the  great  man, 

But  when  you  get  near  greatness  you  find  it  is  much  like  everything 

else. 

When  you  weigh  greatness  in  a  scale  it  comes  still  to  a  man — that  is  all, 
When  you  put  that  which  is  small  in  a  scale  that  too  is  a  man  and  no 

less. 

Greatness  is  commonest  in  the  everyday  paths. 
When  the  rat  ran  to  his  hole  you  did  not  say  it  was  great, 
But  when  the  sun  dropt  below  the  horizon  west  that  you  called  great. 

After  all  the  great  of  the  earth  had  passed  and  passed  again  while  every 
body  saw  and  hurrahed, 

Then  came  the  greatest  of  the  earth  and  passed  and  passed  again 
unseen  and  unsaluted: 

Will  you  always  be  blind  ?     Will  you  always  be  deaf  and  dumb? 


WE   WERE   JUST    BROTHERS 

We  were  just  brothers — that  was  all: 

Just  two  men  who  loved  each  other  and  never  gave  an  ac 
count  of  our  love, 
Just  workers  in  the  world  whose  work  was  the  sorrow  and 

the  joy  of  each  other  in  days  of  failure  and  days  of  suc 
cess. 
I  used  to  ask  my  brother  why  he  loved  me  and  he  said  he 

did  not  know, 
And  then  he  would  ask  me  why  I  loved  him  and  I  too  said 

I  did  not  know: 
And  so  we  went  about  with  each  other  happy  in  our  sweet 

secret, 
Went  about  with  each  other  not  being  too  curious  regarding 

the  mystery  of  our  dear  partnership. 

I   never  used  to  feel  mean  in  the  presence  of  my  brother: 
He  always  seemed  to  fill  me  with  the  sense  of  grace  and 

nobility. 
I  never  was  made  to  feel  small  before  the  measure  of  my 

brother: 

He  always  seemed  to  quote  me  in  as  big  figures  as  his  own. 
The  roots  of  my  brother  and  the  roots  of  me  met  somewhere 

in  the  ground  below, 
The  soul  of  my  brother  and  the  soul  of  me  met  somewhere 

in  the  immortal  heavens  above: 
I  did  not  seem  to  mind  his  sins  and  he  did  not  seem  to 

worry  when  I  offended: 
We  went  every  hour  hand  in  hand  and  did  not  question  the 

way — 

The  night  was  black:  we  did  not  question  the  night: 
The  storms  threatened:  we  did  not  question  the  storms: 

245 


246  OPTIMOS 

We  did  not  question  the  ugliness  of  the  day  or  the  beauty 

of  the  day, 
We  did  not  question  the  blessings  that  came  or  the  blessings 

that  were  withheld: 
We  went  every  minute  hand   in  hand  as  brothers  may  go 

who  find  brotherhood  the  full  answer  to  all  the  doubts 

and  all  the  assurances  of  the  soul. 
I  never  felt  as  though  I  could  wake  up  any  morning  and  find 

my  brother  gone, 
Or  as  if  they  could  ever  bear  my  brother  away  and  bury  him 

in  a  grave, 

Or  as  if  he  might  be  led  off  somewhere  by  a  superior  love, 
Or  as  if  I  could  lose  him  anyhow  by  any  act  of  his  own  or 

any  act  of  others, 
Or  as  if  in  the  very  worst  that  could  happen  to  me  he  was 

not  always  and  forever  the  very  best  that  could  happen 

to  me. 
My    brother  was  my  brother — that  was  the  least  and   the 

most  I  could  say: 
The  tree  was  a  tree — that  was  the  least  and  the  most  I  could 

say  about  the  tree: 
The  song  was  the  song — that  was  the  least  and  the  most  I 

could  say  about  the  song: 
And  so  with  our  darling  loves — they  were  just  our  darling 

loves  and  that  was  the  least  and  the  most  I  could  say 

about  our  loves. 
If  I  undertook  to  say  more  or  less  I  could  only  say  goodbye 

and  withdraw  and  shut  the  door  of  brotherhood  behind 

me. 
I  was  very  fond  of  my  brother  and  he  was  very  fond  of  me 

but  we  did  not  tell  each  other  so — we  did  not  make 

too  much  of  that: 
We  liked  to  be  around  with  each  other — that  seemed  to  be 

about  all  there  was  to  it. 


OPTIMOS  247 

The  philosopher  came  to  us  and  said:  Explain  this  to  me 
in  a  theory: 

The  mathematician  came  to  us  and  said:  Explain  this  to  me 
in  figures: 

The  poet  came  to  us  and  said:  Explain  this  to  me  in  a 
song: 

The  artist  came  to  us  and  said:  Explain  this  tome  in  a  pic 
ture: 

Yes — they  all  came  to  us  and  said:  Explain  this  mysterious 
thing  in  words  of  our  trades. 

We  shook  our  heads:  how  could  we?  we  could  not  even 
explain  it  to  ourselves: 

We  could  just  keep  the  road  we  had  chosen  and  follow  it  to 
the  end: 

We  could  just  go  on  being  brothers  and  expanding  in  broth 
erhood: 

We  were  just  two  men  who  loved  each  other  and  never  gave 
an  account  of  our  love: 

We  were  just  brothers — that  was  all. 


O   MY   DEAD   COMRADE 

for  W.  W. 

0  my  dead  comrade — my  great  dead! 

1  sat  by  your  bedside — it  was  the  close  of  day — 

I  heard  the  drip  of  the  rain  on  the  roof  of  the  house: 

The  light  shadowed — departing,  departing — 

You  also  departing,  departing — 

You  and  the  light,  companions  in  life,  now,  too,  compan 
ions  in  death, 

Retiring  to  the  shadow,  carrying  elsewhere  the  benediction 
of  your  sunbeams. 

I  sat  by  your  bedside,  I  held  your  hand: 


248  OPTIMOS 

Once  you  opened  your  eyes:    O  look  of  recognition!     O 

look  of  bestowal! 

From  you  to  me  then  passed  the  commission  of  the  future, 
From  you  to  me  that  minute,  from  your  veins  to  mine, 
Out  of  the  flood   of  passage,  as  you  slipped  away  with  the 

tide, 
From   your   hand   that   touched   mine,  from   your  soul  that 

touched  mine,  near,  O  so  near — 
Filling  the  heavens  with  stars — 
Entered,  shone   upon   me  and  out  of  me,  the  power  of  the 

spring,  the  seed  of  the  rose  and  the  wheat, 
As  of  father  to  son,  as  of  brother  to  brother,  as  of  god  to 

god! 

O  my  great  dead! 
You  had  not  gone,  you  had  stayed — in   my  heart,    in  my 

veins, 
Reaching  through  me,  through  others  through  me,  through 

all  at  last,  our  brothers, 
A  hand  to  the  future. 


WHAT   HAVE   I   TO    DO   WITH    LIVES 

What  have  I  to  do  with  lives  outside  of  my  life? 

Why  should  my  fortune  concern  itself  about  the  fortunes  of 

the  unlucky? 
Why  should  I  be  distressed  when  things  go  wrong  in  the 

world  as  long  as  things  go  all  right  in  my  own  house? 
Why  should   I   care   who   has   too   little  as  long  as  I  have 

enough  ? 
I  call  for  life,  flush  and  proud,  on  my  own  account,  ever, 

ever  and  forever! 

Yet  life  may  be  poor  and  unkept, 


OPTIMOS  249 

For  life  will  not  come  on  my  own  account, 
For  life  on  my  own  account  is  empty  and  forbidden, 
And  all  the  orderliness  of  my  house  is  ciphered  in  the  gen 
eral  confusion, 
And  nothing  can  be  right  with  me  if  anything   is  wrong 

with  the  world, 

For  the  world  goes  about  declaring  my  name  and  I  can  only 
repeat  its  cry  in  the  syllables  of  justice. 

How  could  you  pass  me  unseen,  O  brother  spirit? 
You  travel  in  disguises,  you  travel  in  crime  and  virtue, 
But  we  arrive  together  at  the  same  spot — no  one  comes  in 
before  another. 

Could  I  ever  know  man  if  any  man  was  less  or  other  than 

another  me? 
Could  I  reach  to  the  farthest  life  or  reach  to  the  nearest  if 

far  and  near  mattered  in  the  least? 
Could  I  ascend  to  Christ  or  the  masters  or  descend  to  the 

obscure   or  the  slaves   if  high   or  low  counted   in  the 

scale  ? 
Could  I   know  my  own  face   if  yours  was  alien  to  me,  or 

anything  back  of  either  face? 

You  believe  that  your  next  of  kin  is  the  man  or  woman  you 

love, 
You  believe  that  your  next  of  kin  is  the  man  or  woman  who 

believes  in  you  or  in  whom  you  believe, 
You  believe  that  your  next  of  kin  is  the  good  and  the  true. 
I  take  the  curtain  away:    I  will  not  allow  you  longer  to  be 

deceived. 

Your  next  of  kin  may  be  the  man  or  woman  you  hate, 
Your  next  of  kin  may  be  the  man  or  woman  you  doubt  and 

who  doubts  you, 


250  OPTIMOS 

Your  next  of  kin  may  be  the  infamous  and  the  false: 
For  if  these  are  not  your  next  of  kin  then  you  are  friendless 
and  homeless  on  the  crowded  earth. 

For  each  of  your  kinsmen  is  paying  a  debt: 

He  may  be  paying  a  debt  in  his  good  or  his  bad — he  is  pay 
ing  a  debt: 

And  your  kinsman's  debts  are  yours:  his  expiations  are  for 
your  crimes  and  misdemeanors, 

And  if  your  kinsman  is  paying  debts  of  evil  which  are  yours 
as  well  as  his  and  you  disown  him, 

You  are  disinheriting  your  own  soul,  you  are  soiling  your 
own  body,  you  are  traitorous  to  all  your  collateral  selves, 

Bleeding  all  life  away  in  starry  wastes. 


COME,    HE   SAID,    I    LOVE   YOU 

Come,  he  said,  I  love  you;  I  do  not  know  why  I  love  but  I 

love; 

Something  from  you  to  me,  something  I  feel  but  do  not  see, 
Prevails  on  my  older  self,  lifting  me  clear  of  the  earth, 
Not  severing  the  dead  from  the  living, 
But  making  the  dead  and  the  living  one. 

Shall  I  tell  you,  O  my  brother? — shall  I  offer  what  today 

you  could  not  take? 
No — no:  for  the  hour,  for  the  day,  past  this  sundown — only 

silence  and  love: 
Only  the  hand  that  reaches,  only  the  hand  that  takes. 

But  tomorrow:  O  the  morrow! 

With  the  first  gray  and  flush  on  the  treetops,  on  the  wings 
of  the  new  day, 


OPTIMOS  251 

I  know,  O  I  know, 

You  will  look  into  my  face,  I  will  look  into  your  face,  you 

seeing  in  me,  I  seeing  in  you, 
That  which  was  always  promised, 
That  which  cautiously  was  long  denied, 
That  which  forever  now  makes  day  and  night  and  death  and 

life  and  good  and  evil 

Laws  of  the  one  soul,  strains  of  the  one  song, 
Softer  than  softness,  stronger  than  strength, 
Ample  for  boundless  continuations. 


AND   WE   BURIED    HIM 

And  we  buried  him  with  the  rest  of  the  dead. 

No  word  was  spoken  over  his  grave  which  could  not  have 

been  said  over  any  other  there: 
And  after  we  had  buried  him   snug   in   his   earthy  bed  we 

turned  away  and  took  him  home  with  us  to  hearthstone 

our  aching  future. 
What  was  it  that  came  from  him  to  us  and   made  salvation 

thenceforth  unnecessary? 
What   in   him   that  seemed   to   take  Jesus  by  the  hand  and 

Buddha  and   turn  chant  and  rhetoric   to   the   superior 

offices  of  love? 
The  church  dissolved,  the  state  was  wrecked,  only  a  man 

was  left,  and  that  man  without  a  name — 
That  man  our  dear  companion:    What  was  it,  O  brothers 

invulnerable? 
What  was   it  that  came  without   reputation   from   him  and 

displaced  without  scorn  all  honored  traditions? 
When  he  died  no  void  was  left — he  filled  all  voids: 
The  near  unseen,  the  far  unknown,  the  cherished  figure 

hanging  in  the  background, 


252  OPTIMOS 

He,  the  least  of  men,  without  rank,  born  of  mothers  and 

fathers  forgotten, 

Without  hate  or  love,  measured  our  common  hope. 
And  men  were  not  even  curious  enough  to  wonder  who  he 

was. 
The  plainest  citizen  of  your  city  could  have  been  mistaken 

for  him, 
The   obscure   mechanic,    the    neglected    artist,    the   foiled 

leader, 
The  man  who  somehow  had  not  written  up  to  himself  or 

down  to  the  dirt, 
Yet    conspicuous    above    kings    who  rule    with   crowns  or 

tyrants  elected  to  serve. 

You  have  thought  it  was  history's  end  to  produce  the  con 
spicuous  fine  person? 
No:  all  the  cost  of  experience  has  been  paid  to  produce  this 

great  unknown  life — 
The   life   of  our  dear  companion — the  life  of  our  dearest 

friend — 
Whose  passport  yields  us  heaven  at  a  sign. 


I    LOVE    TO    GO    AMONG    MY   DEAR    COM 
RADES   THE   PEOPLE 

I  love  to  go  among  my  dear  comrades  the  people, 

Loafing  in  streets  with  my  spirit  alert  and  approving, 

Not  afraid  to  admit  the  bad  with  the  good  or  losing  faith 

when  evil  brags  and  blasphemes, 

Giving  my  whole  self  for  the  whole  self  of  the  crowd, 
Withholding  nothing  from  the  free  interchange  of  the  hours, 
Liberal  with  life  as  the  crowd  is  liberal  with  life, 
In  the  sacred  stream  without  question  of  precedence  com 
mingling. 


OPTIMOS  253 

You,  dear  comrades — you,  the  people:  the  common  gang: 
You  draw  me  out — you  go  to  my  roots  and  get  your  pay: 
I  am  not  ashamed  of  you  or  proud  of  you:  you  are  my  com 
rades:  I  can  say  no  more. 

You  halt  and  you  go  on — you  swear  and  riot  and  corrupt: 
You  take  your  fill  of  all  folly  and  turn  it  to  the  uses  of  love: 
Yet    you   are   not   understood — the   gloved   hand   does    not 

understand  you: 
Yet  you  are  not  understood — the  cultive  does  not  understand 

you: 
They  think  you  are   ugly  and  dirty:    they  doubt  you,  men 

and  women: 

I  go  with  you  hand  in  hand,  I  do  not  question  the  way: 
Their  clubs  disappear,  their  libraries  disappear — you  alone 

figure  in  the  autumn's  grain: 
For  my  love  of  you  goes  below  and  above  all  explanations 

of  love: 
Goes  to  sacrifice,  goes  to  service,  which  forever  glorify  you. 

The  mad  sea  tosses. — the  sea  of  my  comrades: 

And   we  call  our  hellos  to   each  other  from  the  crests  of 

waves, 
And  the  streets  teem  with  the  millions  of  us  no  better  or 

worse, 
And  the  houses,  the  silent  houses  each  side,  regard  us  with 

their  dumb  looks, 

And  we  give  the  great  city  its  life  or  it  has  no  life — 
Yes,  give  it  its  justifying  meaning  or  it  has  no  meaning: 
Lift  it  all  upon  our  shoulders  to  mountainous  wonder, 
And  suffer  and  die  to  keep  it  aloft  as  a  banner  signaling  the 

farther  dreams. 

Dear  comrades,  dear  people,  I  pass  unnoticed  among  you  as 
I  should, 


254  OPTIMOS 

And  though  you  do  not  know  it  you  all  gather  about  me  and 

I  gather  about  you, 

And  our  tears  flow  together  in  one  sorrow, 
And  our  laughters  ripple  together  in  one  jubilant  outcry, 
And  food  is  given  for  food  in  the  labor  of  the  general  arm, 
And  when  you  are  sick  we  are  partners  ill  in  one  bed, 
And  when  you  die  we  are  mates  buried  in  one  coffin: 
Poured  one  into  another  as  into  vessels  of  mutual  measure, 
Not  eager  to  be  picked  out  for  special  applause, 
You  to  separate  ^yourself  from  me  or  I   to  separate  myself 

from  you — 

Only  contented  to  be  seized  and  carried  along  in  the  mas 
ter  current, 

No  one  preferred  for  eminence  but  the  total   itself  so  emi 
nent. 
In  the  highways  of   the   town,    in   the   seething   rush   and 

tumble  of  the  night, 

As  I  stray  out  from  my  house  and  lose  myself  in  the  in 
timacy  of  your  flood, 
I  the  singer  am  merged  in  the  beautiful  song. 

I  try  to  say  things  but  they  dont  get  said: 

Only  the  hints  of  things  get  said — and  they  must  suffice: 

And  when  I  try  to  make  love  to  the  people  they  do  not  hear — 

They  miss  my  true  voice  in  the  babel  of  betraying  voices: 

Yet  I  do  not  curse  and  weep  and  forswear  my  cause: 

I   know   that   about  my  dear  comrades  which  they  do  not 

know  about  themselves, 
And  though  their  doors  are  locked  I  can  get  in  without 

keys, 

And  though  they  miss  my  secret  they  cannot  miss  my  forth- 
reaching  love. 

The  streets  are  full  of  people,  the  people  are  full  of  me: 


OPTIMOS  255 

I  see  the  artists  help  themselves  to  the  treasure  of  the  people 
and  they  do  not  know  I  am  watching, 

And  they  put  it  into  books  and  pictures  and  music  and  call 
it  by  another  name  and  forget  the  soil  that  gave  the 
harvest, 

And  call  the  sun  by  another  name  and  the  rain: 

But  the  people  are  steadfast — they  bequeath  the  great  for 
tunes, 

And  in  their  faces  which  I  look  into  this  night,  in  their 
unswerving  faces, 

Is  the  plea  and  promise  of  sustenance  everlasting,  of  eternal 
fertility, 

Shining  more  clearly  than  the  stars  in  the  sky  above, 

Auguring  the  noblest  fulfilments  of  the  soul: 

I  love  to  go  among  my  dear  comrades  the  people! 


OUT   OF  THE   CROWD    HE   CAME 

Out  of  the  crowd  he  came  and  did  his  work, 

The  simple  man  sufficient,  strong  and  sweet, 

Taking  his  place  in  the  mix,  not  pushing  on  beyond  or  lag 
ging  behind, 

Letting  who  pass  him  who  might,  letting  who  rob  him  who 
would, 

Out  of  deep  shadows  emerging  when  called, 

Then  back  again  into  the  beloved  shadows  contentedly  re 
tiring. 

The  simple  man,  the  man  you  meet  every  day  and  every 
where, 

A  drop  in  the  stream  that  passes  by  your  door, 

The  anonymous  sap  of  the  earthtree  announcing  fruit, 

Lost  in  the  mingling  all,  averaged  in  the  human  lump, 

Creator  creating  yet  never  imprinting  his  song. 


256  OPTIMOS 

Do  you  know  what  it  means  to  be  very  great? 

To  be  very  great  is  to  be  very  simple. 

The  simplest  man  on  the  earth  is  the  greatest  man  on  the 

earth : 

Greatness  shrinks  from  greatness:  it  disappears  off  the  trail: 
It  has  work  to  do  and  does  it  according  to  the  work. 
The  singer  has  a  song  to  sing  and  sings  it  according  to  his 

song, 
He  does  not  sing  it  according  to  your  ear  or  your  applause. 

The  men  with  dirt  on  their  hands,  the  despised  men, 
The  men  of  the  common  trades  who  go  about  their  work 

with  no  thought  of  fame, 
The  men  who  care  for  the  world  in  its  night  and  its  day 

and  yet  are  unnamed  on  the  list  of  saviors, 
The  men  who  plant  in  the  spring  and  gather  in  the  fall  and 

are  not  mentioned  in  the  reports, 
The  men  you  would  not  seat  at  your  table  or  invite  to  meet 

you  in  equal  places, 
These  are  the  men  of  the  crowd  who  save  the  crowd  from 

YOU, 
These  are  the  men  of  the  crowd  who  save  the  crowd  from 

itself, 

These  men  of  powerful  unheralded  intentions, 
Clinching  the  truce  of  love. 

You  have  taken  your  lamp  and  looked  for  fame  and  wished 

to  stand  alone, 
You  have  worshiped  showcase  greatness  singing   its  miser 

wonders, 
But  greatness  does  not  come  dressed  up  in  the  compliments 

and  salaams  of  the  multitude. 
Greatness  is  in  the  sufficient  man,  being  sufficient  for  what 

he  may, 


OPTIMOS  257 

The  plainest  man  is  great  if  he  is  as  big  as  his  task, 
The  noisiest  reputation  is  contemptible  if   it  fails  to  fulfil: 
nothing  can  save  it. 

I  am  not  afraid  of  the  crowd, 

The  crowd  will  do  me  no  harm — 

The  crowd  will  not  destroy  me,  the  crowd  makes  me  what 

I  am. 

In  the  sweep  of  the  general  purpose  I  star  my  personal  will. 
The  crowd  is  the  infinite  treasury  upon  which  all  greatness 

must  draw, 
The  crowd  is  the  infinite  treasury  upon  which  all  identity 

must  draw: 

Even  identity,  that  proudest  relic  of  battletired  ages, 
Lost  in  the  hut  of  the  hermit  is  found  in  the  crowd. 


I   WANT   TO    PAY    MY    BILL   TO    YOU 

I  want  to  pay  my  bill  to  you: 

I  dont  care  who  you  are,  for  great  or  small,  I  want  to  pay 

to  you: 
That  debt  of  ages,  that  debt  of  my  own  few  days,  that  debt 

of  quenchless  love: 
I  want  to  pay  it  to  you:  to  you  who  are  in  rags,  to  you  who 

are  discredited: 
To  you  who  are  lost  in  the  crowd,  to  you  who  are  not  a 

master  but  a  majority: 
I,  owing  so  much,  having  so  little  with  which  to  pay  what 

I  owe: 

I,  doing  my  best  to  show  that  I  acknowledge  you:   I,  dig 
ging  in  the  ground  for  you: 
I  come  to  you  not  as  one  of  the  few  but  as  one  of  all:   not 

as  one  of  the  famous  but  as  one  of  the  unknown: 


258  OPTIMOS 

I  with  my  arms  empty  but  my  heart  full  being  able  to  offer 

you  nothing  but  myself: 
Offering  you  nothing  but  myself  but  offering  you  the  whole 

of  myself:  until  all  is  gone  offering  you  all  of  that:  the 

whole  of  myself: 
Paying  what  I  can  on  account,  paying  from  day  to  day,  bit 

by  bit: 
Never  hoping  to  catch  up  with  your  good  will  yet  struggling 

on  with  undiminished  ardor: 
I  who  can  hardly  commence  to  settle  with  you  who  have 

never  paused  in  giving: 
Taking  my  fill  of  the  general  sunshine:   sharing  the  fund  of 

common  light: 
Turning  away  from  the  saviors  to  you:    to  you,  who  plant 

and  starve:  answering  alone  to  you: 
Bad  or  good  as  they  call  you,  answering  alone  to  you:  dirty 

or  clean  as  they  call  you:  to  you,  to  you: 
Out  of  my  vision  answering:  out  of  my  puzzled  senses:  an 
swering  alone  to  you. 

You  have  never  presented  a  bill  to  me  but  I  have  presented 

a  bill  to  myself: 

And  although  you  do  not  tell  me  what  I  owe  you  I  tell  my 
self  what  I  owe  you: 
And  although  you  never  act  as  though  I  was  unfilial  yet  I 

know  you  are  my  father  my  mother  self: 
And  I  swear  that  I'm  going  to  pay  you  if  it's  in  me  to  pay 

you — pay  you  all  for  all: 
And  I  know  that  if  I  do  not  pay  after  trying  to  pay  you  will 

not  feel  sore  on  me: 
And  I  understand  anyhow  that  you  are  too  big  to  care  one 

way  or  the  other  about  that: 
For  the  peril  is  for  me  in  not  paying,  the  peril  is  not  for 

you  in  not  being  paid: 


OPTIMOS  259 

The  main   thing  is  that  we  are  one  affair  and  cant  divide 

ourselves, 
And  that  what  you  give  so  lavishly  I  have  got 'to  give  back 

somewhere  in  as  full  measure, 
And  that  you  who  went  without  meals  for  me  and  died  in 

battles  for  me  way  off  somewhere — 
That  this  brings  you  next  to  today  and  now  and  makes  me 

contemporary  with  your  time. 
There  would  be   no  way  to  cut   loose  if  I  wanted  to  cut 

loose: 
But  I  dont  want  to  cut  loose:   I  want  you  all,  you  floating 

nameless  crowds: 
I  pass  into  the  streets:   into  the  stream  of  your  mortal  life: 

it  is  my  stream: 
And  there   is  no  beautiful  or  ugly  to  me  there:   all  is  one 

thing  above  beauty  and  ugliness: 
And  when  I  see  your  sad  faces  I  cant  help  feeling  that  you 

are  sad  for  me, 
And  when  I  see  your  maimed  bodies  I  cant  help  feeling  that 

you  are  hurt  for  me, 
And  when  I  see  your  half  lives  I  cant  help  feeling  as  if  I 

someway  had  robbed  you  of  the  other  half, 
And  when  I  see  your  stunted  brains  I  cant  help  feeling  as  if 

I  had  stood  between  you  and  the  sunlight: 
Which  all  goes  to  show  me  not  that  I  am  any  worse  than 

anyone  else  but  that  I  am  not  any  better  than   anyone 

else, 
And   that   eating   another   man's   food   does   not  make   me 

healthier  than  he  is, 
And    that    being  in   another   man's   house    or  wearing   his 

clothes  does  not  keep  me  any  warmer  in  winter  than 

he  is: 
For  every  eye  I  look  into  haunts  me:  makes  me  see  that  I 

have  a  bill  to  pay: 


260  OPTIMOS 

And  every  injustice  I  see  haunts  me:    makes  me  see  that  I 

have  a  bill  to  pay: 
And  although  those  who  are  broken  and  lost  slink  out  of  my 

path, 
And  although  those  who  are  damned  while  I  am  saved  hide 

themselves  in  alleys  and  hovels, 
I  know  well  enough  that  I  am  the  one  to  sneak  away  and 

hide  and  confess — 
That  if  I  was  what  I  ought  to  be  they  could  stand  proudly 

out  in  the  unshaming  day, 
That  if  I  was  what  I  ought  to  be  they  would  know  that  they 

had  paid  in  full  and  I  was  yet  to  pay: 
That  if  I  was  what  I  ought  to  be  they  would  be  what  they 

are  instead  of  what  they  are  not. 

The  girl  on  the  street  came  up  to  me:  what  do  I  owe  you? 

she  asked: 
Darling,  you  owe   me  nothing:   I   owe  you:  you  have  paid 

in  full: 
And  I  went  to  the  jails:   what  did  the  jail  owe  me?  the  jail 

asked: 
O  you  innocent  prisoners,  you  owe  me  nothing:  I  owe  you: 

you  have  paid  in  full: 
And  I  visited  the  mills  and  the  stores:   what  did  the  mills 

and  the  stores  owe  me?  they  asked: 
O  you  crowding  creators,  you  only  gods  and  masters,  you 

owe  me  nothing:    I   owe  you:   you   have  paid  in  full: 

ages  ago  you  paid  in  full: 
And  a  tramp  asked  me  on  the  road  for  a  nickel:   thank  you 

sir,  the  tramp  said:  his  gratitude  scared  me: 
O   my  derelict   brother,  you   owe   me   nothing:  I  owe  you: 

you  have  paid  in  full: 
And  a  loafer  came  reeling  up  to  me,  soaked  with  rum:  what 

did  the  drunk  owe  me?  he  asked: 


OPTIMOS  261 

O  my  masked  god:  do  you  think  I  cant  see  through  your 
disguise?  you  owe  me  nothing:  I  owe  you:  you  have 
paid  in  full: 

And  the  artist  who  failed  turned  his  picture  against  the 
wall:  what  did  his  failure  owe  me?  the  artist  asked: 

0  my  comrade,  your  failure  owes  success  nothing:  success 

owes  you:  you  have  paid  in  full: 
And  that  is  the  way  it  is:   wherever  1  look  I  dont  see  what 

is  owing  me  but  what  I  owe: 
And  that  is  the  way  it  is:    I  cant  think  of  the  good   I   do 

people,  I  keep  thinking  of  the  good  they  do  me: 
And  that  is  the  way  it  is:  I  go  about  everywhere  choked:  I 

cant  say  what  is  in  me  to  say: 
When  I  look  at  those  who  are  wretched  I  cant  say  what  is 

in  me  to  say: 
When  I  see  how  they  have  carried  crosses  for  me,  I  cant  say 

what  is  in  me  to  say: 

1  can  only  stumble  out  a  few  words  of  entreaty  and  for  the 

rest  be  still: 

I  can  only  reach  out  a  hand  to  their  hands,  the  living  and 
the  dead,  and  for  the  rest  be  still. 

Dears,  all  of  you,  all  you  fools,  slaves,  criminals,  prostitutes, 
outlaws,  failures,  drunkards: 

Dears,  all  of  you,  you  who  are  personally  forgotten  in  the 
remembered  total: 

Listen  to  me:  you  owe  me  nothing:  I  owe  you  everything: 
everything  I  have  or  can  get: 

Listen  to  me:  I  change  skins  with  you:  you  now  are  clean 
and  I  am  rotten:  that  is  all  there  is  to  it: 

Listen  to  me:  you  have  offended:  you  could  not  help  your 
selves:  the  too  strong  current  swept  you  down: 

Listen  to  me:  you  have  paid  in  full:  being  what  you  are  is 
pay:  is  pay  in  full  and  more  than  pay: 


262  OPTIMOS 

Listen  to  me:  but  I — I  have  yet  to  pay:   being  what  I  am  I 

have  yet  to  pay:  to  pay  in  full  and  more  than  pay: 
Listen  to  me:   and  so  I  who  was  always  close  to  you  draw 

closer  till  no  one  can  again  tell  us  one  from  the  other: 
Listen  to  me:   I  pay  no  bill  to  the  virtuous  and  the  gifted 

and  the  rich:   no:   I  pay  my  bill  to  you:   I  owe  no  one 

else: 
Listen,  dears:  I  want  to  pay  my  bill  to  you. 


THERE   WAS    NOTHING    REMARKABLE 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  the  day, 

The  day  was  like  all  other  days,  a  simple  day  among  simple 

days, 
The  clouds   in  the  sky  were  beautiful  but  they  were  not 

more  beautiful  than  I  had  seen  them  often  before, 
The  river  I  crossed  was  the  same  river  whose  tides  up  and 

down  were  the  tides  of  accustomed  courses, 
I  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  people  I  passed  on  the  street — 
The  people  were  the  same  people  I  had  always  known, 
The  faces  were  the  same  faces  that  had  always  reflected  the 

despair  and  faith  of  my  own  face: 
I   lifted  the  baby  out  of  the  crib  and  fondled  it  as  I  had 

fondled  other  babies  fresh  through  the  gates  of  birth. 
What  was  it  that  rilled  me  full  and  flowing  over  with  radiant 


The  old  thoughts  came  back  again  in  the  old  forms:   it  was 

not  the  old  thoughts. 
The  old  emotions  returned  and  blessed  me  with  the  ancient 

blessings:  it  was  not  the  old  emotions. 
The  woman  I  loved  came  to  me  and  touched  me  with  the 

thrilled  and  thrilling  palms  of  our  first  avowal  of  love: 

it  was  not  the  woman  I  loved 


OPTIMOS  263 

Failure  and  success  played  the  usual  parts  in  my  shifting 

fortune:  it  was  not  failure  and  success. 
What  was  it,  do  you  think,  that    possessed  me  with  such 

abundant  consolation? 

I  was  visited  by  some  added  plenty  of  life: 
Something  I  cannot  even  speak  of  to  myself  that  grew  up 

out  of  all  the  past  yet  was  not  the  past. 
I  think  that  if  I  tried  to  tell  the  meaning  of  this  it  would 

disappear: 
It  is  so  remote  from  words  that  words  would  only  shock  its 

ineffable  silences. 
I  used  to  stand  awed  before  men  and  women,  they  were  so 

great: 
I  still  stand  awed  before  men  and  women — they  are  not  less 

great: 
But  before  this,  how  do  I  stand?      O  God  I  do  not  know 

how  I  stand! 

I  am  translated  into  the  substance  of  my  father  self, 
I  go  and  come  in  great  joy  but  I  do  not  know  where  I  go 

and  come: 
I  say  I  know  at  last  what  life  is  but  when  you  ask  me  what 

life  is  I  say  I  cannot  tell, 
I  say  I  am  carried  away  bodily  into  other  spheres  but  you 

remind  me  that  my  body  is  here, 
I  pass  you  on  the  street  and  you  nod  to  me,  but  I  pass  you 

again  and  you  do  not  know  me  nor  do  I  know  myself. 
It  is  a  tremendous  mystery  to  me  and  must  remain  a  mystery, 
I  am  overcome,  swept  away,  lost  in  the  furious  stream. 
Have  you  lived  and  missed  the  last  satisfaction  of  living? 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  the  day — 
The  day  came,  the  day  went,  quite  like  other  days: 
No — there  was  nothing  remarkable  about  the  day: 
I  guess  I  see  what  it  was — yes,  I  see  what  it  was: 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  the  day, 


264  OPTIMOS 

The  day  was  a  duplicate  of  days  gone  and  of  days  to  be  du 
plicated  ever  and  ever: 

This  was  what  it  was:  there  was  something  remarkable 
about  me: 

I  say  it  over  a  thousand  times:  there  was  something  remark 
able  about  me. 

And  you,  sisters,  brothers,  dear  to  me,  O  so  dear  to  me — 

Is  there  not  also  something  remarkable  about  you?  remark 
able?  oh!  so  very  remarkable? 

Something  that  calendars  could  not  include  but  which  you 
include? 

Something  that  no  matter  what  fails  and  flies  that  never 
fails  and  flies? 

Do  you  not  feel  it  at  times  as  I  feel  it  at  times? 

I  say  to  all  of  you,  you  are  all  so  dear  to  me,  that  there  is 
something  very  remarkable  about  you, 

That  there  is  nothing  very  remarkable  about  the  days. 


I    CAN   BE   OF   MUCH    USE   TO   YOU,   DEAR 
COMRADES 

I  can  be  of  much  use  to  you,  dear  comrades: 

Do  not  turn  away:  make  the  most  of  me. 

When  the  orchard  is  mellow  with  fruit  do  not  hesitate  to 

eat  the  fruit, 
When  the  harvest  field  is  rich  with  wheat  do  not  let  it  rot 

ungathered: 
Send  your  boats   out   on  the   seas — let  them  take  the  last 

chance  with  the  storms. 
When  I  come  to  you  loaded  and  running  over  with  joy,  take 

me,  profit  by  me: 
Do  not  stand  on  the  ceremony  of  untruth,  do  not  apologize 

for  taking  what  I  bring: 


OPTIMOS  265 

Put  me  into  your  life  just  as  if  I  belonged  to  you,  as  I  do; 
Take  all  that  you  need  not  like  a  beggar  but  like  a  brother. 
You  have  every  right  to  take  because  I  have  no  right  to 

withhold: 
The  day  has  no  right  to  keep  back  its  sunbeams — they  freely 

shine  as  they  please: 
The  river  has  no  right  to  nullify  its  tides — they  freely  flood 

and  freely  fall: 
The   tree   has  no  right  to  refuse  to  blossom  in  season — it 

freely  matures  and  freely  yields: 
I  have  no  right  to  hoard  my  love — it  freely  gushes  out  of 

me. 
They  who  try  to   restrain  me  do  not  know  what  they  are 

doing — 
They  are  trying  to  restrain  the  seasons  but  summer  follows 

spring  forever, 
They  are  trying  to  restrain  the  day  and  the  night  but  no 

matter  how  black  the    sundown  the  dawn  comes  un 
stopped: 
As  well  think  of  making  nothing  of  the  earth  and  the  stars 

as  make  nothing  of  me. 

If  you  are  wise  you  will  list  me  at  a  very  high  figure: 
You  will  not  ask  the  gentlemen  and  the  scholars  what  I  am 

worth — you  will  ask  your  heart  what  I  am  worth. 
You  have  maybe  made  good  investments — you  have  turned 

a  pretty  penny  on  them: 
I  offer  you  a  superior  title — I  stand  ready  to  give  you  that 

to  which  all  other  investments  would  appear  paltry. 
What  I  tender  you  can  never  go  short: 
It  dont  need  to  be  watched  for  fear  it  may  be  stolen, 
It  dont  need  to  be  clutched  with  miser  caution  for  fear  that 

giving  it  away  will  lessen  its  estate, 
It  dont  need  to  be  hid  in  a  safe  from  the  thief  or  put  out  at 

interest  which  robs  the  poor, 


266  OPTIMOS 

It  dont  need  to  be  fought  for  man  against  man  at  the  fear 
ful  cost  of  injustice; 

No:  I  offer  it  to  you  without  a  cent  and  I  ask  no  thanks: 

I  promise  that  if  you  take  it  I  will  be  the  debtor,  you  will 
not  be  the  debtor: 

I  promise  never  to  remind  you  whatever  happens  that  I  have 
made  you  a  gift — 

I  promise  always  to  remind  myself  that  you  have  nobly  con 
sented  to  receive  a  gift  from  me: 

And  what  I  give  you  will  see  is  so  glorious  you  will  won 
der  where  I  got  it  from — 

You  will  look  at  it  and  look  at  me  and  wonder  where  I  got 
it  from, 

And  I  will  not  tell  you  because  I  could  not  and  could  not 
tell  myself. 

Only  it  is  sure  that  you  will  never  be  sorry  you  took  what  I 
held  out  to  you, 

Only  it  is  sure  that  I  will  never  be  sorry  I  poured  my 
treasure  unstintedly  into  your  arms. 

Standing  about  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  filled  to  the  brim 
with  what  my  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  crowd  most 
need: 

Yes:  filled  and  more  than  filled  with  what  they  most  need — 
filled  and  more  than  filled  with  sorrow  for  their  sor 
rows: 

Why  should  I  be  backward  in  inviting  them  to  help  them 
selves  with  unhesitating  hands? 

And  why  should  they  be  backward  in  helping  themselves 
and  taking  all  they  have  a  mind  to? 

0  my  comrades!  it  is  in  me  and  there  is  plenty  and  more 

than  plenty  for  all: 

You  can  exchange  all  your  crosses  for  this:  all  your  crosses: 
all. 

1  can  be  of  much  use  to  you,  dear  comrades. 


OPTIMOS  267 

I   JUST    GIVE   YOU   WHAT   I'VE   GOT 

I  just  give  you  what  I've  got,  dear  comrades: 

The  little  things  here  and  there  of  no  consequence  born  of 

my  love: 
The  words  of  my  heart  addressing  themselves  to  you:   the 

plain  simple  words  of  my  loyal  faith: 
I   have   nothing   else  to  give,  but   I   give  you  that  wholly, 

without  asking  any  questions: 
Coming  to  you  with  joy,  visiting  you  with  confidence,  yet 

sending  no  boisterous  couriers  ahead  to  promise  you 

anything: 
You,  all  of  you,  to  whom  I  belong:   you,  all  of  you,  who 

belong  to  me:  the  somebodies,  the  nobodies: 
Trembling  sometimes  at  your  threshold,  wondering  whether 

you'll  let  me  in  at  all: 
Me,  with  my  few  stray  obscure  belongings,  knocking  with 

fear  at  your  door: 
Bringing  to  you  what  the  others  may  not  bring:  the  proud, 

the  decorated:  what  they  may  not  bring: 
Yet  knowing  quite  well  that  maybe  my  little  gift  is  not  wel 
come — is  too  trifling  to  be  taken  seriously: 
That  something,    that  nothing,  out  of  my  slender  treasury 

offering  itself  to  you: 
Not  on  its  knees,  offering:   yet  humbly  offering:   shy  about 

its  value:  ready  to  be  rejected: 
The   fruit   of   the   slip  I  planted  as  a  boy  now  grown   to  a 

man's  height: 
The  fruit  of  the  slip  I  planted  as  a  boy  now  grown  O  God 

how  I  hope  to  a  man's  worth: 
Coming  with   it   to  you,  in  my  eyes,  in  my  hands,  in   my 

voice,  in  my  soul,  coming  with  it  to  you: 
Submitting  it  to  you:  without  asking  you  to  take  it  yet  hop 
ing  it  may  answer  some  need  of  your  struggle: 


268  OPTIMOS 

To   you,    my   comrades:    to   you:    from   way   off,  from   the 
shadows,  unknown,  to  you,  to  you. 

I  just  go  on  saying  over  the  same  thing,  dear  comrades: 
I  have  no  more  than  the  one  thing  to  say,  and  that  thing  is 

love: 
And  I  say  that  tirelessly  to  you  so  that  you  hear  it  wherever 

you  are  and  whatever  you  are  doing: 
I   am  not  versatile,  I  am  not  great,  I  have  no  standing  in 

the  world: 
I  stay  on  the  ground:   I  mix  up  with  the  crowd:    I  address 

you  in  the  plainest  way  I  know: 
Keep  saying  my  one  word,  keep  dreaming  my  one  dream: 

though  laughed  at,  seeing  nothing  else  to  do: 
Well   aware   that   you  resent  me:    catching  you  give  each 

other  significant  discrediting  looks  when  I  appear — 
When  you  see  me  coming  run  away  from  me:   when  you 

hear  me  speaking  stop  your  ears: 
I  understand  you:   I  bring  you  only  the  one  affair:   you  are 

tired  of  hearing  me  spell  it  out: 
But  I  cant  get  away  from  it:  it  haunts  me:    it  fills  me  with 

you:  fills,  overflows  me: 
It  haunts  what  I  tell  you  of  and  what  I  put  my  hands  to  and 

the  ground  I  tread  on: 
Just  love:  the  love  of  my  heart  for  you:  the  love  of  my  heart 

for  the  joys  I  want  you  to  have: 
Just  love:  the  love  of  my  heart  for  you:  the  love  of  my  heart 

for  the  justice  I  want  you  to  have: 

The  foolish  innocent  hunger  to  be  of  use  to  you:  the  shame 
faced  thirst  to  be  of  use  to  you: 
The  resolution  to  come  back  eternally  with  what  I  have  to 

offer:  to  take  no  no  as  final: 
Not  sure  I  am  worth  while,  not  sure  coming  back  is  worth 

while,  but  coming  back  without  fail: 


OPTIMOS  269 

I,  without  credentials,  introduced  by  no  ambassador,  suing 
in  your  haughty  court. 

You  dont  know  me?      I  do  not  wonder:    I  dont  know  my 
self:  I  am  at  a  loss  about  myself: 
You  ask:  who  are  you?  and  I  shake  my  head:    I  look  at  you 

and  say  nothing: 
I  come  to  you  but  I  could  not  tell  why:   I  have  something 

for  you  but  I  could  not  tell  what: 
Out  of  me  some  flower  will  blossom,   out  of  my  seedthrow 

some  harvest  will  come: 
That  I  am  sure  of  but  that  is  all  I  am  sure  of:  there  is  more 

to  tell  but  I  cant  tell  it: 
I  feel  that  I  am  sent  to  you  but  I  dont  know  what  sent  me 

or  what  I  am  sent  for: 
I  say  the  books  did  not  send  me:  no — not  the  noblest  books: 

something  more  than  books: 
I  say  the  powers  did  not  send  me:    no — not  the  universities 

nor  the  rulers  nor  the  singers:    something  more  and 

more: 
I  say  money  and   property  did   not   send   me:    they  least  of 

all:    no — for  they  are   murderously   dumb:    something 

more  and  more: 
I   say   that   only  the    love   of  the  people  sent  me:    there   is 

nothing  more  than  the  love  of  the  people: 
And  that  is  the  cause  why  I  loaf  around  among  you  stam 
mering  out  my  message: 
And  that  is  the  cause  why  I  have  not  repeated  it  with  any 

ornament  and  brag  added  but  have  passed  it  to  you  just 

as  I  received  it: 
And  that  is  the  cause  why  the  masters  will  tell  you  I  only 

speak  a  slave  jargon  and  must  be  interpreted: 
As  if  love  needed  to  be  interpreted  if  you  gave  love  half  a 

chance  to  live. 


270  OPTIMOS 

Now  I  have  said  over  again  what  I  have  said  countless  times 

before, 
And  I  dont  know  how  it  seems  to  you  but  to  me  it  seems  as 

if  I  was  saying  it  for  the  first  time: 
For  saying  love  over  never  seems  like  saying  love  too  much: 

you  always  listen  for  it  again: 
I  cant  begin  to  count  up  the  loves  I  have  scattered  across 

the  earth  and  the  loves  the  earth  has  scattered  across 

me: 
And  I  never  saw  that  love  did  any  harm  anywhere  or  was 

complained  about    O    my  brothers    when  you   under 
stood  it: 
For  that's  about  all  life  comes  to  anyhow — comes  to  the 

love  we  can  put  into  it: 
I  just  give  you  what  I've  got,  dear  comrades. 


AS   I   LOOK  INTO   YOUR  GRAVE 

for  Fritz  Scheel 

As  I  look  into  your  grave, 

As  they  bury  the  body  of  you  whom  I  love, 

As  the  usual  things  are  being  said  by  those  who  mourn, 

I  find  that  no  death  words  will  come  to  my  lips, 

I  find  that  only  life  words  will  come  and  should  come, 

And  so  I   laugh  and  am  exalted  at  the  joyful  thought  of 

what  has  happened, 
And  those  who  are  gathered  with  me  and  who  are  weeping 

tears  of  sorrow 
Turn  from  me  wondering  and  angry  and  leave  me  alone 

with  you. 

Well — why  should  I  not  laugh? 

It  was  a  joyful  life  you  led  even  in  the  reverse  of  the  battle, 


OPTIMOS  271 

And  you  helped  me  to  lead  a  joyful  life  myself  and  helped 
countless  others, 

And  you  had  a  beautiful  soul  which  set  numberless  beauti 
ful  things  loose  in  the  world, 

And  so  you  who  were  a  glad  giver  require  to  be  just  as 
gladly  honored: 

Not  grieved  about  in  clothes  of  reproachful  black, 

But  made  merry  with  in  dresses  pure  white  and  in  dances 
of  carerid  feet: 

Not  talked  of  in  accents  of  emasculating  regret, 

But  told  of  in  the  language  of  virile  delight  and  unstinting 
exultation. 

Dear  brother,  you  were  a  brave  man: 

You    were   steadfast   to  a   vision  which   many  buy  off  and 

many  ignore, 
You  were  not  afraid  to  accept  the  full  challenge,  for  you 

were  ready  to  pay  the  full  cost, 
But  you  finally  broke  down — -like  a  struck  tree  were  riven 

to  the  root, 
Though  meantime    seas  stirred  by  cruel  storms  and  capes 

difficult  with  venom  were  safely  weathered. 
You  had  saved  enough  of  yourself  out  of  many  battles  for 

the  supreme  battle  so  victoriously  fought, 
And  when    the  noise    was    stilled    and    the  wreckage  was 

cleared  away  they  found  your  body — 
Found  your  body    on    the   spot   where   the  fight  had  been 

hottest — 
And  they  told   me  that   in  spite  of  your  wounds  your  face 

wore  a  look  of  peace. 
That  is  why  I  am  satisfied,  dear  brother,  as  I  look  into  your 

grave — 

I  see  through  the  flooding  tears  the  clear  day  of  my  endur 
ing  inheritance. 


272  OPTIMOS 

Well,  dear  brother,  you  died  without  a  pedestal:    you  had 

lived  on  the  ground: 
You  were  only  a  musician — only  a  man  of  harmonies  and 

a  swayer  of  the  baton, 
You  were  only  an  artist  and  wore  no  decorations  of  martial 

glory, 
You  were  not  in  uniform  and  sat   in  no  distinguished  chair 

of  state, 
Yet   you  stood  very  high — so  high  the  soldier  could  not 

reach  you, 
Yet  you  stood  very  high — so  high  the  statesman  could  not 

reach  you: 
And  you  stood  on  no  laws — you  stood  only  on  your  own 

feet, 
And  you  stood  on  no  dead  bodies  of  men — you  stood  onl> 

on  your  own  feet, 
And  so  while  the  orators  tell  about  other  men  who  are  made 

heroes  by  the  number  of  the  enemies  they  helped  to 

die 

Let  me  tell  about  you  who  were  made  a  hero  by  the  num 
ber  of  the  friends  you  helped  to  live. 

Yes,   they  assailed  heights  and  were  applauded,    the  men 

who  maimed  and  killed  their  fellows, 
And  they  died  hearing  the  hurrahs  of  legislatures  and  were 

remembered  in  the  reports  of  rulers, 
And  histories   afterwards   said  they  were   the  elect  of  the 

earth. 
But  you,  dear  brother — you  murdered  nobody  and  you  were 

voted  no  resolutions, 
You  did  not  stand  in  the  way  of  love — you  cleared  the  way 

for  love, 
For  you  were  one  of  the  builders  who  always  give  back  to 

life  more  than  they  take  from  life, 


OPTIMOS  273 

So  that  while  the  income  of  the  battlefield  is  on  a  principal 

of  death, 

Your  dreamway  of  sound  was  a  sacrament  of  birth. 
You  sent  no  one  away  with  less,  you  sent  every  one   away 

with  more, 
You  gave  your  very  body,  and  your  body  was  the  world's 

sacred  foodstuff, 
You  waived  your  very  soul,  and  the  world  helped  itself  and 

grew  beautiful  in  the  treasure  you  released, 
And  then  dear  brother  you  laid  down  your  baton  and  closed 

the  last  score  in  the  playhouse, 
And  then  dear  brother  you  laid  down  your  body  and  laid 

down  your  soul, 
And  you  who  were  so  tired  though  so  loyal  had  reached  the 

end  of  your  mortal  journey. 

Now  that  part  of  the  story  is  all  over  with  and  told, 

And  I  shall  not  linger  about  your  tomb  saying  dead  things 

about  you  who  are  my  living  comrade: 
No,  dearest  brother:   I  leave  you  now  where  you  are — your 

body  (the  few  atoms  of  your  body), 
Standing  here  without  one  word  of  death  in  my  heart, 
Standing  here  flooded  with  words  of  life  which  I  must  speak 

in  your  name  or  be  silent, 
Refusing  to  take  the  cue  of  the  mourners, 
Taking  only  the  cue  of  those  who  are  joyful, 
As  I  look  into  your  grave. 


THIS   IS   STOCK   TAKING    DAY 

for  William  Gable 

This  is  stock  taking  day: 

In  a  world  of  things  this  is  the  first  day  of  the  year: 


274  OPTIMOS 

/"" 

But  what  have  I  to  do  with  a  world  of  things? 
My  world  is  a  world  of  men:  my  world  is  a  world  of  hearts: 
When  things  become  men,  when  things  become  hearts,  then 
I'll  have  something  more  to  do  with  a  world  of  things. 
I  say  to  you,  dear  brother:  very  well:  take  account  of  stock: 
And  while  you  are  taking  account  of  stock  I  will  take  ac 
count  of  you. 
I  do  not  say  that  it's  not  worth  while  to  take  account  of 

stock: 

I  say  that  it's  more  worth  while  to  take  account  of  men: 
In  the  days  and  the  years  when  you  were  building  up  a  cen 
ter  of  trade, 
In  the  days  of  the  growing  visible  witness  of  your  success 

and  power, 

Something  greater  still  was  going  on  down  your  way: 
Something  infinitely  more  significant,  more  beautiful: 
What  was  it,  dear  brother?  can  you  guess?  can  you  guess? 
It  was  you,  dear  brother:  you  were  going  on: 
You  were  building  up — you — the  divine  human  loving  sim 
ple  man: 

You  were  building  up  majestically  out  of  all  the  past: 
Side  by  side  with  your  store,  back  of  your  store,  under  your 

store,  you  were  building  up: 

You,  the  foundation  of  all:  you  were  building  up: 
And  there  are  many  who  see  the  store  today  who  do  not  see 

you: 
And  there  are  many  who  do  not  know  that  the  store's  today 

grew  out  of  your  yesterday: 

And  they  do  not  know  as  well  as  you  know  and  I  know 
that  the  store  today  is  worth  no  more  than  a  bushel  of 
shavings: 

As  you  know  and  I  know — as  certainly  I  know  if  you  do  not 
know — that  you  could  not  be  bought  with  a  thousand 
stores. 


OPTIMOS  275 

So  it  is,  dear  brother,  that  as  you  take  account  of  stock  I 

take  account  of  you: 
And  while  you  are  reckoning  up  goods  I  am  reckoning  up  a 

man. 
What  do  I  care  for  your  store  or  another  store  or  any  array 

of  wealth? 
Nothing — nothing — nothing:    it    comes   to  no   more   than 

stubble  and  desert  sand: 
But  you,  dear  brother:  you,  the  maker  of  stores:  you  amount 

to  a  lot  and  everything: 

And  so  when  we  come  to  our  totals  I  leave  you  far  behind: 
Figure  however  high  you  cant  figure  goods  as  high  as  a  man: 
And  so  when  we  come  to  meanings  I  leave  you  way  behind:         o 
Dig  deep  as  you  choose  in  goods  for  a  meaning  you  cant  dig 

to  the  meaning  of  a  man. 
Yes,  there  is  love  in  the  store:  you  put  it  there:  goods  never 

put  it  there: 

But  the  love  in  you  leaves  the  love  in  the  store  way  behind: 
Try  as  you  might  you  could  not  get  all  your  love  into  a 

store: 

The  store  wouldn't  let  you,  goods  wouldn't  let  you,  mer 
chants  wouldn't  let  you: 
Struggle  as  you   may  you  cant  struggle  altogether  free  of 

goods:   nobody  can: 
Today  goods  are  in  league  against  the  soul:  that  is  why  the 

soul  puts  goods  second: 
But  when  goods  go  in  league  with  the  soul  then  goods  too 

may  get  nearer  first  and  enjoy  real  honors. 

You  are  taking  account  of  stock:    I  am  taking  account  of  a 

man: 

I  too  have  use  for  goods  but  I  have  more  use  for  a  man: 
And  I   dare  say,  brother,  that  my  job  has  been  harder  than 

yours. 


276  OPTIMOS 

Think  what  a  man  is — then  try  to  count  him  up! 

Think  of  what  he  leads  from,  what  he  leads  to — then  try  to 

count  him  up! 
Think  of  his  passions,  his  loves,  his  bad  and  good — then 

try  to  count  him  up! 
Think  of  his  brain,  of  his  heart,  of  his  appetites — then  try 

to  count  him  up! 
Think  of  his  joys  and  despairs,  his  victories  and  defeats — 

then  try  to  count  him  up! 
Think  of  his  wrestles  with  himself  in  the  darkness,  of  his 

thwarted  ideals — then  try  to  count  him  up! 
Think  of  the  things  in  a  man  and  about  a  man  that  dont  go 

right — then  try  to  count  him  up! 
Think  of  the  pure  things  in  a  man  that  are  taken  for  foul — 

then  try  to  count  him  up! 
I  do  not  refuse  to  think  of  the  goods  in  a  store:  no:   and  I 

count  them  up: 
And  you  know  and  I  know,  dear  brother,  that  the  things  in 

a  store  can  be  counted  up: 
But  the  things   in  a  man,  the  multitude  of  his  parts  and 

plans — they  can  never  be  counted  up: 

Doing  the  best  you  can  you  tell  me  what  the  store  is  worth — 
But  I,  doing  the  best  I  can,  cant  tell  what  you  are  worth: 
For  the  worth  of  a  store  has  its  limit  and  you  can  count  to 

a  limit, 
But  the  worth  of  a  man,  the  maker  of  a  store,  has  no  limit: 

it  can  never  be  counted  by  any  skill: 
So  that  while  I  do  not  give  you  up  I  say  a  man,  you,  are  too 

much  for  me:   there  are  no  figures  for  you: 
I  stand   in    awe    before   a   man:    he   mounts  so  high — the 

meanest  man  mounts  so  high. 

So  we  have  taken  stock,  both  of  us,  dear  brother,  today: 
You  have  taken  stock  of  the  store  and  you  know  what  it 

comes  to: 


OPTIMOS  277 

I  have  taken  stock  of  you:   my  heart's  love  was  in  it:   but  I 

dont  know  what  you  come  to: 
The  store  at  the  best  comes  to  so  little  a  few  sentences  will 

tell  of  it: 
But  you — you  come   to  so   much   that  no  accumulation  of 

words  would  do  more  than  begin  to  tell  of  you. 
This  is  stock  taking  day. 


SOMEHOW,    SOMEHOW,    SOMEHOW 

for  Stevie  at  Caritas  1909 

Somehow  it  seems  to  me  you  will  take  nothing  away  with 
you  that  does  not  belong  to  you: 

Somehow  it  seems  to  me  you  will  leave  nothing  with  me 
that  does  not  belong  to  me: 

Even  the  tears,  dear  comrade — the  goodbye  tears:  they  belong 
to  you  and  to  me: 

And  it  is  true  that  as  you  go  I  will  go  with  you  forever: 

And  it  is  true  that  as  I  stay  you  will  stay  with  me  forever: 

For  nothing  belongs  to  you  or  to  me  or  to  today  in  gain  or 
loss  that  does  not  belong  to  both  of  us  in  treasure  for 
ever: 

Somehow  these  things  seem  true  to  me  as  you  go:  somehow 
these  things  seem  true  to  me  as  I  stay: 

Somehow,  somehow,  somehow. 


AT  WEST    HILLS   IN    OCTOBER 

for  D.  B.  and  H.  P. 

At  West  Hills  in  October: 

Rimmed  by  the  sea  to  the  north,  nestled   to   the   bosom  of 
the  interior  hills, 


278  OPTIMOS 

Here,  in  its  ancient  post  still  guarded,  an  old  farmhouse, 
Here,  three  travelers,   curiously  lingering,    inquiring,  with 

affection  retrospective. 

O  day  of  retreating  years!  backward,  in  the  hushed  room 
assembled — father,  mother:  the  child  illustrious  just 
born,  the  vicissitudes  and  honors  of  the  future  unsus 
pected. 


TENS   OF  THOUSANDS   OF   SOLDIERS 

for  Fred  Long 

Tens  of  thousands  of  soldiers  in  armies  march  across  the 

earth:    they  are  futile,  doomed:    they  are  emissaries  of 

hate: 
A  single  man  lies  sick  on  a  bed  in  a  little  room    in  a  big 

city:    he  is  resistless,  invincible:    he  is  an  emissary  of 

love. 


THE  PEOPLE  ARE  THE 
MASTERS  OF  LIFE 


The  boat  crossed  the  river  day  and  night — 

The  usual  people  crossed,  the  strangers  crossed,  I  loafed  in  the  crowd: 

Nothing  uncommon  ever  happened,  nothing  to  depress  or  excite  the 

passengers : 
Yet  I  always  remembered  that  there  were  deckhands  who  went  about 

their  jobs  without  a  fuss, 
Yet  I  always  remembered  that  there  was  an  engineer  in  the   engine 

room, 
Yet  I  always  remembered  that  there  was  a  pilot  in  the  pilot  house. 


Have  you  the  right  to  sit  fed  at  your  table  or  warmed  at  your  fire 

while  your  wheat  is  sowed  in  starvation  and  your  coal  is  mined  in 

the  north  wind? 
God!     You  have  not  stolen  a  cent  from  any  man  you  have  wronged! 

but  think  what  you  have  stolen  from  yourself! 
Pour  into  the  yawning  hells  all  your  sacrilegious  incomes!   they  but 

measure  your  departures  from  yourself. 


Face  to  face,  the  house  of  the  farm  hand,  the  palace  of  the  money 

king, 

(The  mails  pass  up  and  down  the  road,  never  across), 
Though  two  men  were  seas  apart  they  would  not  be  farther  separated, 
I  pass  between— I  take  one  hand  from  each. 

Born  in  the  shadow,  graded  by  the  law  over  the  gutter's  edge, 
Consort  of  reptile  despairs,  living  to  grope  not  see, 
He  raged  in  blindness,  Samson's  mate,  and  wrecked 
The  four  stanchions  of  my  boasted  house. 


THE   PEOPLE   ARE   THE   MASTERS   OF   LIFE 

The  people  are  the  masters  of  life:    the  people,  the  people! 

So  I  go  about  in  the  streets  of  cities  singing  with  glad  assur 
ance,  the  people,  the  people! — 

Needing  no  reasons  for  my  great  joy  beyond  the  reasons  in 
my  own  heart, 

Not  asserting  myself  in  dubious  words,  not  being  afraid, 

Letting  the  dissenters  and  scorners  have  their  unhindered 
way  with  themselves, 

I  for  my  part  figuring  life  out  into  magnificent  totals  of  love, 

Being  satisfied  not  to  shine  alone  in  grandeur  somewhere  off 
from  the  crowd, 

Mixing  up  day  by  day  with  the  common  run  of  men  popu 
lating  the  towns  and  farms, 

Shining  if  they  shine  in  their  illumination  or  being  lost  if 
they  are  lost  in  the  average  measures  of  worth. 

So  I  go  about  singing  my  triumphant  song: 

The  people  are  the  masters  of  life:   the  people,  the  people! 

And  though  nobody  hears  my  voice  I  hear  it  myself, 

And  though  those  hearing  my  voice  dont  echo  it  I  echo  it 

myself, 
And  though  some  are  displeased  telling  me  to  stop  my  noise, 

I  am  pleased  with  myself  and  cry  out  louder  than  ever: 
It  gives  me  such  joy,  I  cry  out  without  intermission  so  all 

may  know  what  I  have  to  say, 
And  when  the  people  themselves  for  whom  I  sing  ridicule 

me  I  still  sing  my  song  for  them — 
My  song,  their  song,  which  they  not  singing  make  it  my 

double  duty  to  proclaim: 

The  people  are  the  masters  of  life:   the  people,  the  people! 

281 


282  OPTIMOS 

The  people  are  the  masters  of  life:   the  people,  the  people! 

So  I  go  round  everywhere  filling  the  world  with  my  song, 

Tantalizing  the  ears  of  the  leaders  with  my  troublesome 
victorious  psalm, 

Calling  them  all  off  their  pedestals  to  the  ground,  tumbling 
all  their  superiorities  in  a  heap, 

Compelling  the  lords  of  rule  to  produce  their  charts — re 
fusing  any  longer  to  take  them  for  granted: 

Seeing  them  gather  in  resentful  array  shaking  their  self- 
crowned  heads. 

Who  are  the  masters  of  life? 

The  judge  comes:   he  brings  crime:   he  says:   The  laws  are 

the  masters  of  life! 
The  statesman  comes:    he  brings  the   legislature:   he  says: 

Constitutions  are  the  masters  of  life! 
The  painter  comes:    he  brings  his  pictures:    he  says:   The 

arts  are  the  masters  of  life! 
The   chemist   comes   from   his    laboratory:    his    hands    are 

stained:   he  says:   The  sciences  are  the  masters  of  life! 
The  priest  comes  from  the  altar:    he  brings  his  bible:    he 

says:  The  religions  are  the  masters  of  life: 
And  so  they  all  come  from  everywhere  shaking  their  heads 

handing  me  their  keys — 
They  all  come  remembering  everything  but  forgetting  the 

people, 
They  all  come  trying  to  drown  my  voice   in  the  clamor  of 

dissuading  tongues, 
Even  the  people  themselves  come    explaining    themselves 

away,  hearing  me  with  alarm — 

(O  horrible  blasphemy:  you,  the  people,  the  crowd,  your 
selves,  shuddering  at  my  challenge!) — 

Listen,  you  high  and  mighty  lordlings  of  things  and  affairs: 


OPTIMOS  283 

I  take  all  your  books  and  properties  and  precedents  and 

cultures  and  put  them  on  a  pile  together, 
And  I  light  them  with  a  simple  match  into  a  vast  flame, 
And  you  stand  close  by  with  me  and  see  them  all  go  up  in 

smoke, 
With   lamentations   on  your  lips   you  see   them   go  up  in 

smoke — 
All  your  masters  of  life  consumed  in  a  common  fire  almost 

in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye — 
And  then  you  look  at  me  wondering  what  now  is  to  come 

to  the  earth. 

I  will  tell  you  what  is  to  come  to  the  earth,  you  lordlings 

of  affairs  and  things: 
The  same  that  has  always  come  to  the  earth  will  come  to 

the  earth  again — 
Laws  again,  maybe,   and  constitutions,   and    the    pride    of 

books : 
All  that  has  just  burned  up  before  you  so  casually  will  come 

to  the  earth  again  and  would  always  come: 
For  they  have  always  come  out  of  the  people,  who  are  the 

masters  of  life, 
For  they  do  not  come  making  man  but  they  come  made  by 

man, 
And  will  always  come,  and  be  destroyed,  and  come  again 

and  again — 
All  the  show  of  the  world  will  come,  all  the  glory  and 

genius  of  the  world  will  come, 
Not  out  of  themselves,  not  out  of  things  written  in  a  charter 

or  kept  in  a  safe: 

No:  not  that  way:  they  will  come  out  of  the  people  forever: 
No:   not  that  way:    they  will  whatever  their  learning  and 

riches  come  out  of  the  people  whatever  their  ignorance 

and  poverty  forever. 


284  OPTIMOS 

I  take  the  sublimest  sentence  from  the  loftiest  scripture  of 

the  race, 
I  take  the  simplest  old  woman  from  the  poorest  alley  in  the 

metropolis, 
And  I  put  them  side  by  side  before  your  eyes  and  my  eyes 

for  us  to  see, 
And  I  guess  you  know  and  I  guess  I  know  without  further 

talk  who  is  the  master  of  life. 

So  I  go  about  singing  with  glad  assurance  in  the  streets  of 

cities, 
Needing  no  reasons  for  my  great  joy  beyond  the  reasons  in 

my  own  heart: 
The  people  are  the  masters  of  life:   the  people,  the  people! 


THE   LEGEND    OF  THE   ROAD 

The  legend  of  the  road, 

The  long  trail  of  courtesy,  the   line  unbroken,  as  of  each 

generation  of  men  greeting  the  next, 
The  marchbeat  of  ages  in  a  law  of  the  heart  treasured  and 

divulged, 
This,  with  the  words  of  it  made  life — this  with  the  dream 

of  it  ever  unfading: 
Keep  to  the  right — so  it  is  given,  and  the  law  directs. 

The  law  of  the  heart,  the  law  of  the  furtherance  of  justice, 
The  law  of  planets  companioning  in  space  the  countless 

comrade  stars, 

The  law  of  the  dream  of  need,  the  law  of  the  self's  respect, 
The  law  of  the  advance  of  love  in  the  world, 
The  law  of  order  without  law,  the  law  of  the  dismissal  of 

law: 


OPTIMOS  285 

jl  have  traveled  far,  it  is  nowhere  withdrawn, 

[Men  may  stultify  the  law,  the  law  never  stultifies  them,  the 

law  is  faithful: 

(The  law  is  the  rhythm  and  the  word,  the  numberer  of  days. 
[Against  the  law  stand  tyrant  and  assassin  in  fury  contending: 
With  one  hand  the  law  takes  the  law  from  the  will  of  the 

state  and  with  the  other  takes  the  knife  from  the  hand 

of  the  destroyer  of  the  state, 
To  each  giving  itself. 

No  untracked  wilderness  refuses  the  heart   its  heritage   in 

this  legend: 
Keep  to  the  right:  the  farmer  rests  upon  the  fence  of  his  farm 

and  notes  that  all  who  pass  observe  the  law  of  the  road. 
He  turns  and  regards  his  acred  harvest  in  this  law  projected. 
In  busy  streets  of  cities,  on  seas  unsubdued,  in  vastness  and 

littleness  the  same  purpose  propelling. 
Keep  to  the  right:    the  law  become  lore — by  it  opportunity  is 

an  open  and  equal  field: 
Right  and  left  is  the  long  long  line, 
Right  and  left  men  greet  as  they  pass, 
Right  and  left  is  the  signword  spoken, 
Left  is  right  as  the  stream  flows  on. 


I,  A   CURIOUS   OBSERVER 

I,  a  curious  observer,  mingled  with  the  throngs  of  the  street, 

becoming  as  one  with  many  in  a  restless  quest, 
I  noting  well  that  in  some  faces  prosperity  had  fixed  its  glow 

while  in  others  failure  had  put  out  the  last  flame  of  the 

torch, 
Saw  that  all  who  appeared,  whether  the  alert  or  the  sluggard, 

whether  laughers  or  weepers,  came  wearing  masks, 


286  OPTIMOS 

Saw  that  all  were  searching,  searching,  for  something  apart 

from  the  awards  of  their  trade — 
Searching  for  the  same  thing,  searching  for  keys  to  a  door, 

searching  for  ways  to  the  open, 
The  surfeited  because  of  his  surfeit,  the  starved  because  of 

starvation, 
Something  I   could  not  put  into  the  signature  on  a  check, 

something  as  though  asking  for  release  from  a  prison. 

The  desert  was  not  the  desert,  the  city  was  the  desert, 
On  the  city's  streets  men  fasted,  plenty  was  there  not  for 

them  to  take  but  for  them  to  suffer  for, 
There  were  the  idlers  with  sugar  on  their  lips  and  bullets 

in  their  hearts, 
There  were  mothers  giving  their  young  the  crust  of  a  last 

sorrow, 
In  the  dark  abattoir  the  children  of  the  alleyways  were  cast 

to  the  beasts,  to  devouring  laws  of  trade. 

You  are  an  alien  in  the  land  of  your  birth, 

When  you  came  all  had  already  been  given  away, 

The  lords  of  the  earth  had  their  titles,  the  few  who  had 

betrayed  the  rest, 
But  you? — You  are  trespassers  wherever  you  go,  you  are 

driven  with  the  lash  from  place  to  place,  in  day  and 

night  never  forgiven  your  vagrancy. 

Would  you  go  to  the  courts  of  the  poor  to  pick  roses? 
Nobody  but  death  picks  roses  in  the  courts — the  roses,  the 

children: 

He  takes  the  most  beautiful,  he  spares  but  few — 
The  court  is  the  sentence  of  the  poor. 
And  the   mothers,  O  the  mothers,  who  gave  the  roses  to 

the  world, 


OPTIMOS  287 

Who  shall  speak  for  them  the  protest  that  faints  on  their 

lips? 
The    hearse    passes  along  the   fetid  alley,  the   flowers    are 

picked  with  stern  hand  and  tossed   into   it,  the  wheels 

are  again  started: 
We  hear  the  rumble  of  the  wagon  as  it  turns  the  corner  of 

the  street  and  is  gone. 

The  toy  of  the  child  of  the  court  is  death: 

See,  the  child  learns  too  well  the  lesson  of  its  heritage:  the 

child  does  not  forget: 
In  its  heart  is  revolution! 

The  orchard  is  loaded  with  fruit,  the  hungry  man  passes  on 

the  road — he  does  not  stop, 
Yet  there   is   that   in   his  heart  which  does  stop,  stealthily 

climbs  the  fence,  plucks  and  eats  the  fruit — 
O,  it  is  that  which  must  be  met  face  to  face  some  day  in 

the  open  field. 


PROCLAIM    FOR    ME   THE    LAW   OF 
REDEMPTION 

Proclaim  for  me  the  law  of  redemption: 

I  do  not  hold  a  sword  across  the  common  road,  I  demand 
that  you  withdraw  your  sword: 

I  do  not  ask  to  be  thrust  forth,  I  ask  only  to  have  leave  to 
go  forth — 

I  may  will  to  remain,  doubtless  part  of  me  will  always  re 
main: 

Content  being  respected  and  protest  being  respected, 

But  my  draft  must  be  honored  whatever  its  spendthrift 
humor, 


288  OPTIMOS 

\ 

Giving  me  right  of  way. 

What  does  it  mean  to  have  right  of  way? 

It  means  eclipse  and  sunburst,  burial  and  resurrection, 

It  means  universal  fulfilment,  man  in  his  heart  as  the  seed 

in  the  ground, 
It  means  to  achieve  loyalty  through  rebellion,  peace  through 

pain, 
It    means   to   sign   no   single  power  away,    to    not    accept 

obeisance, 

It  means  to  give  tyrants  everywhere  notice  to  quit, 
It  means  to  take  all  titles  of  nobility  from  purses  and  rent 

rolls, 
It  means  that  mouths  shall  go  unfed  only  when  no  one  has 

food,  backs  go  uncovered  to  the  cold  only  in  the  general 

nakedness. 

On  your  knees,  O  humble  vagrants,  once  our  masters!  on 
your  knees! 

I  declare  that  the  social  order  is  to  be  superseded  by  another 

social  order: 
I   know  the  quality  of  your  folly  when  you  go  about  the 

streets   looking    in   the   dust   of  noisy   oratory   for   the 

complete  state: 
I  know  very  well  that  when  the  complete  state  appears  it 

will  appear  because  you  bring  it  to  others  not  because 

others  bring  it  to  you, 
And  I  know  that  you  will  not  carry  it  as  a  burden  upon 

your  back  but  as  something  unscrolled  within. 

I  declare  to  all  the  rest  of  you  that  it  is  your  business  to  put 
aside  all  other  purposes  but  that  purpose  which  con 
tributes  to  my  individual  success, 


OPTIMOS  289 

Until  that  is  done  nothing  is  done: 

You  have  choked  your  granaries  with  grain,  you  have  riches 

to  spare,  yet  your  granaries  and  riches  are  empty: 
You  have  found  that  your  peck  measure  had  no  bottom. 
Towards  me  you  will  concentrate  all  power,  you  are  bound 

to  see  me  through, 
I,  having  right  of  way. 

Here,  then,  my  hand:  in  my  will  yours  to  be  done,  in  yours 
mine. 

What  does  it  mean  to  have  right  of  way? 
It  means  to  start  life  ahead  of  all  origins. 

Are  you  unwilling  to  step  aside? 

Let  us  make  a  compact: 

From  this  day  on  let  us    scrupulously   keep    out    of  each 

other's  road, 
You  need  the  whole  of  your  heritage,  I  need  the  whole  of 

mine, 
In    autumns   of  years   on  harvested  fields   gathered  by  free 

hands  we  will  make  a  common  fund  of  diverse  plenty. 

You  have  never  trusted  me  because  you  have  never  trusted 
yourself, 

Into  my  life  you  have  read  the  hesitations,  futilities,  cow 
ardices,  shames,  of  your  heart, 

I  have  retaliated  with  even  hand,  you  have  carried  long  the 
dead  weight  of  my  errancy, 

In  this  day's  delivery  we  will  be  quits  with  suspicion. 

This  is  not  mysterious,  it  is  not  a  secret  on  sale  for  gold, 
This  is  not  a  promise  with  which  the  baffled  fancy  is  forever 
tantalised, 


290  OPTIMOS 

This  is  a  tangible  reality  inviting  the  touch  of  your  fingers, 
This  is  Koran,  Bible,  Zend,  law  of  vision,  law  of  joy, 
This  is  your  nameless  yet  unopened  unbudded  self. 

Right  of  way  is  mine, 

I  assume  it  without  arrogance  yet  with  unfrustrated  will, 

I  cleave  a  brutal  deliverance  in  the  press  of  the  crowd, 

I  must  get  out,  I  must  have  air, 

I  ask  no  coachman  favors,  I  trust  my  own  feet, 

I  ask  for  space:  O  right  of  way! 


MY   BROTHERS,    LISTEN 

My  brothers,  listen,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you: 

I  have  watched   you  at  your  work  through  many  days  of 

many  years, 
I  have  shared  with  you  your  struggles  for  life  and  with  your 

masters : 
Now  I  ask  you  to  listen,  I  want  to  make  a  confession. 

I  want  to  confess  that  I  have  taken  my  eyes  off  the  kings 

and  the  great  men  and  fixed  them  on  you: 
I  have  found  in  you  what  I   expected  to  find  in  them  and 

was  cheated  of, 
I  have  hunted  up  reasons  and  roots  and  found  them  always 

in  you, 
I  have  read  the  great  books  and  asked  how  they  came  and 

found  they  came  from  you: 
The  common  man,  the  general  earth,  seas  and   stars,  the 

unnamed,  the  immortally  obscure. 

You  have  threaded  time  and  gone  without  returns, 
You  have  always  been  where  crises  called  for  you,  yet  were 
never  celebrated  in  the  catalogue  of  events, 


OPTIMOS  291 

The  kings  have  failed,  the  great  have  failed,  you  have  never 
failed. 

I  saw  that  you  fed  the  loom:  but  who  fed  you? 
I  saw  that  you  fueled  the  fire:   but  who  fueled  you? 
History  put  up  big  signs  but  they  never  bore  your  name, 
History  set  great  feasts  but  you  were  never  invited. 

You  go  to  work  in  the  morning  with  your   dinner  pail   on 

your  arm: 
Does  that  pail  contain  your  dinner  alone  and  provide  only 

for  your  simple  day? 
Millions  of  mouths  to  come  hereafter  are  to  be  fed  by  that 

pail  you  carry  on  your  arm. 

When  you  go  home  at  night  after  the  day's  work  the  universe 

goes  home  with  you, 
When  you  strike  against  the  injustice  of  the  master  the  sun 

strikes  with  you, 
For  streams  run  up  and  down  from  you,  and  the  tides  derive 

their  ebb  and  flood  from  you, 
For  the  pride  of  the  world  and   the   humility  of  the  world 

are  alike  products  of  the  muscles  of  your  arms, 
For  the  law  of  the  common  earth  is  the  law  of  the  common 

man. 

My  brother,  listen,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you: 

I  have  arrived  with  the  great  world  here  at  your  workbench 

worshiping  the  tools  of  your  trade, 
I  have  adjourned  all  other  causes  to  your  cause  and  brought 

history  close  by  to  record  your  long  ignored  renown, 
So  that  when  men  see  you  on  your  way  to  work  mornings  or 

nights  or  whenever  they  will  take  off  their  hats, 
So  that  men  and  women  and  children  will  not  go  to  church 

to  see  God  or  to  the  legislature  to  see  Justice, 


292  OPTIMOS 

But  will    go   to  you  wherever  you  are,  in  your  humblest 

employment, 
Hungry,  confident,  by  you  eternally  confirmed. 


THESE   WERE   SAVIORS 

These  were  saviors,  expiating  a  law,  creators  denied  crea 
tion: 

These,  the  lost  miners,  crushed  in  black  pits,  maimed  and 
veiled  from  the  asking  day, 

These,  called  at  the  mouth  of  the  pit  by  fond  names  in 
melting  voices, 

Caught  in  the  network  of  schemes,  crunched  in  the  jaws  of 
a  system. 

I  had  been  told  that  these  things  were  no  more, 

I   had  been   told  that  men  were  so  that  they  could   not  be 

happy  on  the  sorrows  of  others, 
But  when  I  looked  into  your  face  I   did  not  see  that  this 

bloody  sacrifice  had  altered  one  cartilage, 
And  when  I  saw  you  take  your  food  I  did  not  see  you  wince 

as  he  must  who  knows  he  tastes  death. 

You  have  fed  on  the  flesh  of  your  fellows, 

You  have  incarnated   man   in  your  crime  and  drawn  man's 

blood  in  proof  of  your  mercy, 
You  have  weighed  your  peace  against  another's  struggle, 

your  safety  against  another's  wreck, 

And  while  you  have  feasted  in  life  they  have  feasted  in  death, 
You  in  your  open  air  breathing  rare  aromas  of  health, 
They   in   their  stifled  hole  lost  in  the  smoke  and  the  flame, 
You  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  and  laugh, 
They  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  and  weep. 


OPTIMOS  293 

Do  you  sleep  anywhere  at  night  and  not  dream  yourself  to 

the  mouth  of  the  pit, 
There  into  the  darkness  peering,  with  hungry  eyes  gnawed 

by  the  rack  of  your  guilt, 
Hearing  far  down  somewhere  the  dulled  accusing  voices? 

You  must  yet  account  for  this,  you  masters  of  slaves: 

The  men  who  cry  no  more  in  the  darkness  will  forever  cry 
to  your  heart, 

Till  some  day  you  will  answer,  you  will  expand  to  the 
measure  of  love: 

Then  you  will  leave  your  meals  uneaten, 

You  will  go  out  and  around  bravely  confessing  your  degra 
dation, 

In  the  end  resolved  that  no  food  shall  pass  your  lips  again 

Till  all  are  fed,  till  men  have  ceased  to  eat  the  bodies  of 
their  brothers. 


THE   NEW   LEADERS 

The  new  leaders  are  not  trumpeted  heroes  of  swell  and 
strut, 

They  do  not  come,  the  general  on  horseback,  the  robed 
priest,  the  tinseled  rhymer,  the  print  monger, 

They  take  their  places  unobserved,  they  serve  without  in 
structing,  their  unuttered  commands  are  fulfilled. 

Men  hear  the  loud  voice,  yet  do  not  obey  it: 

They  do  not  hear  the  whispered  word,  yet  they  obey  it: 

In  the  surging  mass  they  discover  the  meanest  to  be   the 

leader  uttering  the  divinest  words: 
The  noisy  orators  are  dismissed,  the  flatterers  are  cast  back 

in  the  ranks: 


294  OPTIMOS 

He  only  is  heard  whose  rebuke  is  an  ascendant  note. 

We  have  too  long  postponed  ourselves  and  acknowledged 

others, 
Now  we  accept  ourselves,  we  warn  the  man  who  rejects 

himself: 
The  obstruction  to  me  was  myself:  I  am  now  shaken  free  of 

the  old  drag, 
I  elect  myself  to  a  throne  which  has  no  subjects. 

Hail  to  the  silent  new  leader  tenanting  unseen  the  temple 
which  is  my  heart, 

Hail  to  the  entering  hosts  whose  standards  express  a  suc 
cessful  revolt, 

Hail  to  you,  to  myself,  to  leaders  of  men  desiring  to  be  left 
in  the  crowd. 


COME,    O     YOU    PINCHED     STARVED     OUT 
CASTS 

Come,  O  you  pinched  starved  outcasts,  you  who  are  victims, 
Come,   O   children,   you    who    have    never    flowered — you 

whose  hair  was  gray  in  your  cradles, 
For  you,  in  your  interest,  to  your  entrance  to  life, 
I  speak,  I  raise  my  imperious  voice. 
I  do  not  hate  winners  or  losers, 
I  would  have  causes  winners  and  losers,  men  and  women 

and  children  never, 
I  would  make  my  victorv  vour  joy  and  your  defeat  no  man's 

sorrow, 

I  would  gather  your  treasures  into  this  empty  household, 
I  would  pour  this  poverty  into  your  cup  and  let  you  know 

its  bitter  draught, 


OPTIMOS  295 

I  would  fix  a  meeting  point  to  which  all  interests  would 
hasten  and  where  love  would  flower, 

I  would  pull  no  structure  down  but  erect  all  upon  stately 
models,  each  equal  to  its  needs, 

I  would  not  offer  equality  or  make  men  by  yardsticks  or 
peck  measures, 

I  would  leave  to  the  rose  its  offices  and  to  the  thorn  its 
offices  and  to  all  life  free  air  and  journeyed  ways  with 
out  toll. 

Dare  you  go  your  roughshod  way  making  your  natural  part 
ners  your  roadstones? 

Who  is  suppliant?  your  slave  enslaved  or  you  who  enslave? 

O  counterfeit  masquerade!  O  mask  long  endured  torn 
from  your  hideous  formulas! 


DO   YOU   THINK  THAT   YOU 

Do  you  think  that  you  who  looking  upon  your  neighbor 

cannot  see  Christ  may  better  see  Christ  looking  back 

over  centuries  of  time? 
Your  Christs  you  each  day  kill  and  your  Christs  each  day 

are  resurrected: 
The  chant  towards  the  past,  the  prayer  up  to  heaven,  the 

shudder  down  to  hell, 
The  spires  of  churches  babeled  into  clouds  and  confusion 

perpetuated  among  sects, 
The  resonant  outcries  of  refugees  and  death's  clangors  when 

armies  meet, 
The  gestures  of  priestly  hands  and  the  blind  arbitrament  of 

laws  that  make  courts  of  justice  impossible: 
With  these  against  you  O  Christs  you  will  survive  still  to 

the  last  day: 
Not  with  crowns  of  thorns  ostentatiously  flourished, 


296  OPTIMOS 

Not  with   the   crosses  of  saviors   or  with  the   disputes  of 

disciples, 
Not  in  text  books  or  in  frescoed  temples  or  in  palaces  of 

mighty  brigands, 

But  with  people  you  need  not  go  beyond  your  curb  to  find, 
Whose  struggle  for  release  from  thraldom  is  that  of  the  seed 

underground  eager  for  spring: 
For  these  all  old  Christs  have  abdicated. 


WHEN   I   WENT   TO   THE   BIG   CITY   TO 
MEET    MY    LITTLE   BROTHER 

for  Eugene  Debs 

When  I  went  to  the  big  city  to  meet  my  little  brother, 
Wondering  how  I  would   find  him,  a  drop   in  so   great  an 

ocean, 
My  heart  filled  with  concern  lest  we  might  pass  each  other 

unseen, 
Then  it  was  that  I   discovered  the   terrible  poverty  of  the 

rich  city, 

And  discovered  the  unbounded  riches   of  my  poor  brother: 
And  then  it  was  the  city  that  was  small  and  mean  and  hard 

to  find, 
And  then  it  was  my  brother  who  was  big  and  generous  and 

easy  to  see, 
For  the  city  could  answer  questions  but  could  not  answer 

the  main  question, 
While  my  brother  who  could  not  answer  questions  could 

answer  the  main  question, 
For  the  main  question  is  not  the  question  of  property  but  of 

souls, 
For  the   main   question   is  not   the  question  of  how  much 

fame  you  have  but  of  how  much  justice  you  contain, 


OPTIMOS  297 

And  the  city  asked  the  question  of  love  could  only  answer 

with  hate, 
But  my  brother  asked  the  question  of  love  answered  with 

love  again  over  and  over. 

I  see  him  now,  the  single  man  confronting  the  million  men, 
And  I  see  him  now,  his  forefinger  raised,  calling  upon  the 

million  for  reasons, 
And  I  see  him  now  waiting,  waiting,  with  gentle  assuaging 

eyes,  silent,  so  silent, 

And  I  see  that  the  million  are  unable  to  give  the  divine  reasons: 
For  the  questioner,  my  brother,   standing  there,    is  asking 

for  reasons: 
Not  the  reasons  of  goods,  not  the  reasons  of  ambition  and 

reputation: 
Not  these  reasons:  he  knows  all  about  these  reasons  but 

these  reasons  do  not  satisfy  him: 
He  stands  there  asking   for  reasons  of  equity — asking  for 

reasons  of  right: 
Asking  for  no  reasons  of  enemies  or  owners — asking  only 

for  reasons  of  brothers: 
And  the  proud  city  is  humbled,  lost  for  the  one  vital  reason 

in  the  thousand  reasons, 
And  the  august  city  is  shaken  to  its  roots  before  this  simple 

accuser, 
And  that  which  seemed  built  upon  eternal  foundations  of 

might  rocks  to  its  fall. 

It  was  no  accident  that  brought  the  outcasts  and  the  victims 

to  my  brother: 
They  came  in  their  hunger  and  thirst  knowing  he  would 

not  turn  them  away. 
They  would  not  knock  at  the  doors  of  the  contented  and 

the  comfortable, 


298  OPTIMOS 

They  did  not  go  to  the   storehouses   looking  for  charity, 

begging  the  dole  of  alms — 
They  went  straight  to  him   invoking  his  measureless  good 

will. 
They  figured  well:    look  at  him  as  he  stands  there:   he  is 

their  defiant  spokesman: 
He  refuses  nobody:  he  has  room  enough  for  all:  they  crowd 

him  full. 
Stand  aside,  you  starving  cities,  you  adverse  populations,  for 

your  master  comes: 
(My  brother,  master  of  the  bad:  my  brother,  servant  of  the 

good): 
He  will  feed  you,  cities,  so  that  you  may  lift  yourselves  out 

of  death: 
He  will  overthrow  you  who  league  against  him:   he   is  the 

evangel  of  the  light: 

Sunbeams  are  his  swordblades:  before  them  falsehoods  perish. 
Stand  aside,  you  scholars,  lying  in  your  learning — he  speaks 

words  not  familiar  in  your  well  dressed  jargon: 
Though  you  call  him  by  dreaded  names,  though  you  reject 

him,  laughing  at  his  message, 
The  crowd  draws  near,  sees  his  face — the  vulgar  crowd  that 

you  scorn  needs  no  introduction: 
It  takes  him  up — it  puts  him  on  its  shoulders — it  proclaims 

him  its  voice! 
Stand  aside,  listen:  (what  do  I  hear?):  he  is  citing  you  for 

contempt — 
You    have   disinherited  your  innocent  children  and  he   is 

calling  you  to  account. 

There  is  a  fierce  fire  spread  over  the  nations:   my  brother  is 

the  answer  to  the  fire: 
There    is   a   wrathful   wind   blowing   across   the   seas:    my 

brother  is  the  answer  to  the  wind: 


OPTIMOS  299 

There  is  a  black  despair  settling  upon  the    peoples:    my 

brother  is  the  answer  to  the   despair: 
There   is   the   clank  of   slave  chains  growing  clearer  and 

clearer  in  our  ears:    my  brother  is  the  answer  to  the 

chains: 
He  comes  in  the  fulness  of  evil  times  and  knocks  the  cup 

from  your  hand. 

I  thought  I  would  not  know  my  little  brother  in  the  big  city, 
But  I  found  I  hardly  knew  the  little  city  in  my  big  brother: 
I  would  remember  nothing  about  the  big  city  if  I  did  not 

remember  my  little  brother, 

For  I  learned  that  my  little  brother  was  big  enough  to  con 
tain  ten  thousand  big  cities  with  room  to  spare 
When  I  went  to  the  big  city  to  meet  my  little  brother. 


I  HEAR  THE  LAUGH  OF  THE  UNFED 
CHILDREN 

I  hear  the  laugh  of  the  unfed  children: 

The  children  of  rich  cities  so  poor  and  of  fertile  farms  so 

sterile — 
The  children  who  laugh  in  the  face  of  hunger  and  laugh  in 

the  face  of  despair: 
It  comes  to  me  at  mealtime  when  I  am  happy  about  myself 

and  there  seems  to  be  nothing  to  mend  in  the  perfect 

world: 
The  laugh  of  the  children  bitterer  than  a  wail — the  laugh  of 

the  children  more  wretched  than  grief. 
Why  do  you  laugh,  my  children?     Why  dont  you  cry?     It 

would  not  hurt  me  near  so  much! 
I  hear  it  day  and  night,  up  or  in  bed,  moving  round  or 

standing  still: 


300  OPTIMOS 

It  is  borne  to  me  out  of  the  bottommost  deeps  of  distress  to 

the  topmost  pinnacle  of  my  dreams — 
The  gorged  laugh  of  starvation,  the  victorious  laugh  of  the 

lost,  the  homesped  laugh  of  the  outcast. 

I  hear  your  laugh,  dear  children:   I  do  not  mistake  it:  I  am 

wild  with  it: 
And  I  know  that  your  laugh  so  filled  with  tears  is  the  laugh 

of  innocents  who  do  not  know. 

0  divine  children!  you  are  choked  and  suffocated  and  dying 

and  dont  know  why: 

But  I  know  why:   and  I  will  tell  you  why  and  I  will  tell 
all  why: 

1  will  go  to  the  upstarts  who  have  drawn  prizes,  who  satis- 

fiedly  sleep,  and  tell  them  why, 

And  I  will  arouse  the  whole  earth  to  an  irresistible  resent 
ment. 

Now  I  go  with  your  laugh  in  my  ears: 

I  go  into  the  main  paths  among  the  chosen  and  the  proud: 

I  go  repeating  your  laugh — passing  it  on  sure  that  no  one 

will  refuse  to  hear: 
Wherever  the  great  men  and  women  live  and  work,  there  I 

go: 
For  the  great  men  and  women  must  be   the  first  to  hear 

(must  they  not  be  the  first?): 
Wherever  genius  lives  and  works  there  I  go  repeating  your 

laugh  bitterer  than  a  cry: 
Wherever  the  arts  flourish  and  science  shines  and  masters 

rule,  there  I  go: 
Whether  in  the   parlors  or  the  statehouses  or  the  galleries, 

there  I  go: 
Not   making  your  laugh  worse  or  better — not  accenting   its 

downcast  note — the  laugh  more  sorrowful  than  a  wail: 


OPTIMOS  301 

Taking  it  for  granted  that  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  great  and 
their  hearts  will  answer  your  accusation  with  instant 
shame. 

God!   what   is  this  they  tell  me? 

The  world  is  too  busy:   the  world  has  no  time  to  hear: 
The  world  is  too  busy:  the  world  has  no  time  to  love: 
The  world  is  too  busy:  the  world  has  no  time  to  be  just. 
O  you  million  blasphemies  in  one  blasphemy:    is  it  this  I 

hear  ? 
That  the  world  is  too  busy? — that  the  world  sends  me  back 

with  empty  hands? 

Listen,  O  my  brothers:  you  will  understand  if  you  listen: 

You  will  hear  the  laugh  of  the  children  bitterer  than  a  cry 
and  then  you  will  hear  something  else: 

Yes,  something  else  bitterer  even  than  the  laugh  of  my  un 
fed  children: 

Yes,  something  else  more  fearful  to  reckon  with  than  the 
pain  of  my  unfed  children  who  laugh  while  their  hearts 
break: 

Listen,  O  my  brothers:  you  will  hear  and  you  will  under 
stand. 

The  lawyer  nears  nothing:   Leave  me  to  my  brief,  says  the 

lawyer: 
The  naturalist  hears  nothing:    Leave  me  to  my  bugs,  says 

the  naturalist: 
The  poet  hears  nothing:   Leave  me  to  my  rhymes,  says  the 

poet: 
The  musician  hears  nothing:    Leave  me  to  my  songs,  says 

the  musician: 
The  President  hears  nothing:  Leave  me  to  my  big  stick,  says 

the  President: 


302  OPTIMOS 

And  so  though  I  repeat  the  laugh  of  my  children  bitterer 
than  a  wail  they  do  not  hear: 

None  of  the  leaders  of  men  hear  the  laugh  of  men:  not  one 
hears : 

None  of  the  autocrats  of  culture  hear  the  laugh  of  the  un 
lettered:  not  one  hears: 

I  go  everywhere:  I  am  everywhere  doubted,  everywhere  re 
jected,  everywhere  ignored: 

Leave  us  to  our  ambition,  they  all  say:  leave  them  to  their 
death,  they  all  say: 

The  scholar  in  the  cloister  blows  dust  off  the  books:  does 
he  hear? 

What  is  it?  he  asks:  and  he  says  he  hears  nothing:  do  I? 

And  the  priest  dodging  religion  round  his  pulpit:  does  he 
hear? 

What  is  it?  he  asks:  and  he  says  he  hears  nothing:  do  I? 

With  the  air  full  of  sound  all  being  deaf  and  full  of  sight 
all  being  blind. 

My  children:  I  guess  the  best  people  do  not  hear  your  worst 

laugh : 

I  guess  the  old  apologists  of  old  systems  and  the  old  inter 
preters  of  old  saviors  hear  no  new  cries: 
They  can  hear  a  cry  a  thousand  years  ago  brought  down  by 

echoes  of  echoes  of  scripture: 
They  can  do  that,  my  children:  all  of  them  can  do  that:  all 

of  them: 
But  they  hear  nothing  when  you  cry  on  their  doorstep  in 

the  frozen  night. 
Do  not  give  up,  my  children:  they  do  not  hear  you:   but  I 

hear  you: 
I  do  not  think  your  cries  are  farther  off  than  the  haunting 

cries  of  the  long  since  dead: 
The  cry  of  the  living  is  the  only  cry  of  the  dead  I  can  hear: 


OPTIMOS  303 

I  take  the  living  in  my  arms:  I  welcome  the  living  to  more 

life: 
I  hear  your  laugh  O  my  unfed  children! 


THE   BREAD   LINE  TRAILS   ITS   CLOUDED 
WAY   INTO    MY   SUNNY   HEART 

The  bread  line  trails  its  clouded  way  into  my  sunny  heart: 

Off  the  street  in  the  cold  midnight  finds  its  way  to  me: 

Leaves  the  great  rows  of  houses  behind,  leaves  the  noise  of 
the  city  behind, 

Comes  to  me — in  desire,  in  belief,  in  brave  reaction  from 
fear,  comes  to  me: 

The  vast  long  procession  of  the  unfed  comes  to  me  for  sus 
tenance — drags  its  doubtful  feet  to  my  open  doors: 

The  cortege  of  countless  thousands,  young  men  and  old, 
adrift,  hurt,  ready  to  give  up,  comes  to  me,  seeing  my 
hands  on  the  wheel: 

The  blood-stained  stream  pouring  its  threatening  flood  across 
the  earth,  comes  to  me: 

Like  a  living  question  mark  comes  to  me:  like  a  wild  un 
loosed  force  divine  demonic  comes  to  me  asking  pay: 

I  hear  its  fearful  cry:  "Look  at  us,  emaciated,  in  rags:  we 
have  carried  your  cross:  where  is  our  pay?" 

Brothers,  I  ask  that,  too:  Where  is  your  pay? 

Your  pay  is  not  in  the  crust  doled  out  to  you  in  the  dead  of 

the  night: 
No:  God  knows  that  is  not  your  pay:   that  is  no  part  of  the 

pay: 
Your  pay  can  only  be  given  to  you  in  justice  in  the  quick 

of  noontime: 
Much  belongs  to  you:   much:  riches  untold  belong  to  you: 


304  OPTIMOS 

You  have  endured  for  us  all — you  have  accepted  dishonor  for 

us  all: 
Now  it's  time  for  you  to  quit:   now  it's  time  for  you  to 

demand  a  reckoning: 
I  hear  your  mutterings:    I  know  what  they  mean:    they  are 

not  overtures  of  peace. 

This  world  that  sends  some  of  its  saviors  to  scaffolds  sends 

others  of  its  saviors  to  the  bread  line:   they  all  look  for 

their  pay: 
And  oh,  this  world  sends  some  of  its  girls  to  the  street: 

they  too  endure  for  the  rest:    they  too  will  be  looking 

for  their  pay: 
And  the  children  lashed  into  the  factories  and  the  stores  by 

a  system:   they  too  will  be  looking  for  their  pay:    they 

too: 
And  the  dead,  the  starved  and  the  murdered,  your  father 

maybe    and    my   father    or    some    others  (who  knows 

who?),   will  come  back  from  their  graves:    they  too 

will  look  for  their  pay. 
I  peer  into  their  faces:    they  all  come  to  me:    they  all  ask 

the    same   question:    "We    have    carried    your    cross: 

where  is  our  pay  ? ' ' 
I  know  your  pay  is  postponed,  O  my  brothers,  but  you  will 

get  it,  cent  for  cent: 
I  know  that  no  pay  will  suffice  that  does  not  pay  in  service 

and  equality: 
I  know  that  you  suffer  while  you  wait  and  die  while  you 

suffer:   but  you  will  get  your  pay:    it  can  be  put  off  no 

longer: 
I  know  that  being  good  to  you  is  not  pay:  I  know  that  being 

square  with  you  is  the  only  pay: 
I  know  that  while  you  are  hungry  for  bread  bread  does  not 

feed  you — does  not  pay  you: 


OPTIMOS  305 

For  I  know  that  there  is  something  you  are  hungrier  for  than 
bread  and  that  you  will  finally  taste  its  appeasing  fruit. 

Come  to  me:   yes,  all  of  you — come:   take  me  at  my  word: 
They  give  you  bread:   God  bless  the  bread:   eat:  then  come 

to  me: 
I,  too,  will  give  you  something,  but  what  I   give   is  rarer 

sweeter  than  bread: 
I  will  give  you  a  brother:   I  will  feed  you  from  harvests  off 

brotherfields: 
I  will  not  send  you  away  with  a  crust  (O   divine  crust, 

too!):   I  will  send  you  away  with  faith: 
You  will  not  take  cold  dry  crumbs  out  of  my  retreating 

hand  and  choke  over  them  on  the  frozen  benches  in 

the  park: 
What  I  send  you  away  with  will  rebuild  your  fires:   your 

torch,  near  put  out,  will  flame  up  again: 
This  is  the  last  bread  line:   it  files  solemnly  into  my  heart: 

it  wonders  what  *ny  password  can  be: 
I  feed  it  once  for  all:   my  food  will  last:  you  who  are  fed 

with  it  are  fed  for  good: 

I  send  it  forth  gorged  not  with  crusts  but  with  rebellion: 
I  do  not  promise  it  charity — I  promise  it  love. 

I  always  haunt  the  bread  line  (it  always  so  haunts  me):  last 

night  I  was  there  again:    Broadway  was  ghastly  cruel, 

dim,  silent: 
The  winds  blew  chill  from  the  northwest:    the  storm  was 

extra  rough:   a  cold  rain  fell: 
Yes:  there  was  no  mistake  about  it:  these  were  my  brothers 

waiting  waiting  for  a  meager  penny  handed  out  to  them 

in  the  dark: 
It  was  all  so  like  looking  into  a  black  pit  where  there  was  no 

hope: 


306  OPTIMOS 

It  was  all  so  like  being  in  the  maelstrom  yourself  gazed  at 

by  someone  who  wondered  but  did  not  love: 
But  I,  O  my  brothers:  while  I  wondered  I  also  loved: 
And  so  I  went  on  alone  by  myself  awhile  to  let  it  soak  well 

in: 
And  so  somehow  though  matters  looked  pretty  dense  I  could 

see  a  bright  way  out  for  us  all: 
And  that's  why  the  worst  does  not  look  hopeless  to  me' 

that's  why,  O  my  brothers:   that's  why: 
The  bread  line  trails  its  clouded  way  into  my  sunny  heart 


THE    PRIEST    HAS   HIS   TEMPLE,    I    HAVE   MY 

STORE 

for  William  Gable 

The  priest  has  his  temple,  I   have  my  store,  said  the  mer 
chant: 
I  call  all  the  world  to  my  store:    here  is  what  the  world 

wants:  the  world's  heart,  the  world's  soul: 
Love  may  be  found  here,  worship  may  be  found  here:  I  sell 

only  that  which  is  righteous  before  the  spirit. 
I  do  not  run  my  store  for  profit — I  run  it  for  love,  I  run  it 

for  service: 
Yes:    giving  the  buyers  all  I  have  for  all  they  have:   paying 

out  each  way  all  of  life  for  all  of  life: 
Making  little  of  what   I   get,  making  everything  of  what  I 

give — 
Asking  here  the  questions  of  the  soul   and  answering  them 

right, 
Testing  here  the  value  of  salvation  and  disposing  of  it  for 

what  it  is  worth. 
I  am  only  a  storekeeper? — you  are  only  a  priest?     Well, 

what  of  that? 

\ 


OPTIMOS  307 

You  open  your  bible,  I  open  my  ledger:  maybe  my  report  is 

as  good  as  yours: 
Maybe  I  keep  my  store  cleaner  than  you  keep  your  church — 

maybe — maybe : 
Look  carefully  to  your  church:  sweep  it  out  every  day  several 

times:   dont  let  the  dust  gather  on  your  religion. 
I  will  make  my  store  so  noble  you  will  have  to  move  sharp 

to  outbid  me  with  the  people: 
I  will  talk  such  divine  stuff  for  every  day  you  will  have  to 

do  wonders  for  your  Sunday  to  hold  its  own: 
I  will  not  say  things  against  you:  I  do  not  need  to:  you  are 

saying  so  many  of  them  yourself  in  your  silences: 
I  will  not  argue  with  the  people  to  turn  the  tide  towards 

my  doors: 
I  will  build  my  store  so  near  the  people's  need  the  stream 

will  normally  flow  my  way, 
So  that  the  people  when  they  say  religion  will  not  think  of 

the  church  but  of  the  store, 
So  that  the  people  when  the  children  are  born  or  the  old 

folks  pass  away  will  rock   the   cradle   and   lay  out  the 

dead  in  the  store: 
The  store,    the  natural  assembly  place  of  the  people — the 

people    once    the    customers    who    have    become    the 

brotherhood: 
The  inspired  store,  the  depot  of  plenty,  responding  without 

stint  to  the  cries  of  those  who  have  fallen  behind: 
The  store,  the  impartial  mediator,  the  treasury  of  reward, 

the  granary  of  foods  for  hungers  of  the  seen  and  the 

unseen. 
You  try  life  out  in  the  temple,  I   in  the  store:    God  knows 

which  is  best: 
The  store  is  as  proud  an  opportunity  as   the   temple:    the 

church   may   profane    its    opportunity,    the    store    may 

make  its  opportunity  holy. 


308  OPTIMOS 

What  can  be  more  right  in  heaven  and  earth  than  treating 

people  on  the  square? 
Sometimes  I  think  it  is  not  goods  I  sell  at  all — the  things 

we  eat  and  wear: 
Sometimes  I   think  it   is  love — just  love:    that  everything 

that  goes  out  is  love  and  that  every  cent  that  comes 

back  is  just  more  love. 

I  say  that  selling  goods  may  be  just  as  significant  as  preach 
ing  sermons. 
They  call  the  church  sacred  and  the  store  secular:   but  that 

depends:   I  dont  go  much  on  epithets: 
The  store  may  sell  honest  goods,   the  church  may  preach 

dishonest  sermons: 

I  say  I  am  tired  of  having  my  store  invited  to  your  temple — 
Now  I  turn  about,  now  I  invite  your  temple  to  make  itself 

at  home  in  my  store: 

Let  the  love  of  man  for  man  make  itself  at  home  here: 
The  old  watchman  who  patrols  the  building  all  night  may 

be  better  satisfied  with  himself  than  the  sexton. 
If  God  thrown  out  of  the  churches  is  welcomed  in  my  store 

why  should  a  cushion  in  a  front  pew  be  worth  as  much 
\  as  a  board  on  my  back  step? 

I  do  not  see  why  a  desk  in  my  store  may  not  be  as  devoutly 

dedicated  as  an  altar  in  a  church: 
I  do  not  see  why  the  savor  of  my  soap  counter  may  not  be 

as  sweet  to  God  as  your  incense,  O  priest! 
The  temple  is  not  a  temple  anyway:  only  what  I  do  with  it 

makes  it  a  temple: 

And  the  same  with  my  store:    my  store  is  not  a  store  any 
way:   only  what  I  do  with  it  can  make  it  a  store: 
And  if  the  temple  is  turned  into  a  stall   in  the  market   its 

\pompous  traditions  will  not  save  it, 
And  if  the  store  is   turned   into  a  temple  of  revelation   its 
humble  traditions  will  not  damn  it, 


OPTIMOS  309 

/ 

For  that  only  is  close  to  God  which  the  spirit  puts  there, 
temple  or  store. 

The  priest  has  his  temple,  I  have   my  store,  said  the  mer 
chant. 


I   TOO   AM   DRIVEN   TO   THE   STREET 

I  too  am  driven  to  the  street: 

Law  and  order  have  issued  their  fulmin  against  me: 

I  have  tried  to  stay  in  the  house  of  comfort,  to  sleep  in  my 

bed  of  ease, 
But  something  not  outside  of  me,  something  inside  of  me, 

says:  This  will  not  do. 
In  night  and  day  I  am  adrift,  I  miss  the  reasons  for  loss  and 

reward: 
In  the  crowd  of  servers  and  served  I  cannot  serve  or  be 

served, 
In  the  contention  of  masters  and  slaves  I  cannot  command 

and  I  cannot  obey, 

In  the  cities  of  palaces  and  tenements  I  cannot  forgive  my 
self  my  legacy  and  I  cannot  accept  alms, 
In  the  bankruptcy  of  heaven  and  hell  I  do  not  want  to  be 

saved  and  I  am  not  willing  to  be  damned: 
So  I  cannot  stand  it  any  longer:   I  am  without  ground  for 

my  feet  or  sky  for  my  soul: 
I  say  good  bye:    I  depart:  I  close  the  door  gently  behind 

me: 
I  say  good  bye:  I  offer  my  bond  to  the  street. 

I  am  driven  to  you  O  street  for  my  sustenance: 
In  rooms  my  life  was  in  danger — I  had  to  break  out,  to  get 
away,  anywhere,  nowhere: 


310  OPTIMOS 

In  the  church  my  religion  was  in  danger — I  had  to  run  from 

it,  to  blasphemy,  to  anything: 
In  the  law  my  humanity  was  in  danger — I  had  to  declare 

my  divorce  from  the  vows  of  courts: 
In  the  bed  of  licensed  virtue  my  love  was  in  danger — I  had 

to  tear  myself  free:  O  God!   I  had  to  save  my  love! 
My   inspiration   was    in     danger    in   books:    I   stopped   the 

presses:   though   there  should  be  no  more  books  I  had 

to  save  my  inspiration: 
Everywhere    crowded    the    dangers:    the    superior    throngs 

pressed,  choked  me — threatened  my  destruction:   I  had 

to  jeer,  insult  them: 

The  cabals  of  trades  and  arts  mocked  my  prayers:  the  com 
mon  labor  of  the  hands  was  in  danger:  it  was  the  last 

stroke : 
I  endured  the  perils  as  long  as  I  could:   I  held  back  the 

floods,  I  submitted  to  the  fetters: 
Then  the  fury  of  resentment  broke  loose:  I  burst  my  bonds: 

the  escaping  rushing  waters  covered  and  nourished  the 

earth. 

You  girl  of  the  street — I  am  here,  I  have  come  to  you: 

Take  me  to  your  self,  make  of  me  the  fellow  of  your  primi 
tive  passions, 

Yet  be  careful  what  you  do  with  me — I  come  to  you  the 
last  from  all  the  rest: 

Now  you  will  treat  me  gently,  you  will  treat  me  according 
to  my  dream — 

You  will  lift  me  high  where  my  faith  has  seen  you  trans 
figured. 

I  have  come  to  you  anticipating  your  boundless  love — for 
your  love  I  have  given  up  everything  else: 

I  rush  into  your  arms,  I  nestle  in  your  embraces,  without 
fear,  asking  no  pledges: 


OPTIMOS  311 

You  will  welcome  me — draw  me  ecstatically  to  yourself — 
awaken  from  your  sleep  with  me  by  your  side: 

I  consign  myself  to  you,  I  confer  my  inheritance  upon  you: 

I  have  sinned  so  much  against  you,  darling  girl  (with  equal 
innocence  we  offended): 

I  come  to  you  now  with  reverent  petitions  on  my  lips. 

I  look  into  the  eyes  of  my  brothers  on  the  streets — they  all 
seem  to  know  me. 

Here  are  my  true  mates,  the  Christs  answering  my  hunger 
and  thirst: 

I  find  my  lost  heart  in  the  streets — the  streets  are  the  way 
of  life. 

I  belong  to  the  crowd:  the  crowd  fills  me  with  its  strength 
and  ardor — 

I  belong  to  the  crowd:  the  crowd  does  not  hold  off — takes 
me  at  my  word: 

I  belong  to  the  crowd — I  pass  current  in  the  crowd  for 
genuine  and  square: 

I  am  reborn  in  the  crowd — I  who  died  in  myself  am  resur 
rected  in  everybody  else: 

And  Christ — the  dear  Christ — my  soul's  Christ,  my  body's 
Christ: 

The  Christ  killed  in  churches,  in  laws,  in  halls  of  fame, 
and  buried  deep,  O  so  infamously  deep,  in  the  mire: 

He  is  reborn  in  the  crowd,  on  the  street,  in  obscure  places, 
and  is  laureled  and  beatified: 

The  dear  Christ,  my  body's  Christ,  my  soul's  Christ,  mur 
dered  in  the  letter  of  institutions: 

The  dear  Christ,  my  body's  Christ,  my  soul's  Christ,  re 
stored  in  the  spirit  of  the  street. 

Take  me,  O  fonder  streets:  make  me  over  to  your  uses: 
absolve  me  from  my  traditions! 


312  OPTIMOS 

Take  me,  O  clamoring  streets:  transmute  my  closet  treasons 

into  common  loyalties! 
I  come  to  you  penniless:   I  come  to  you  with  my  property 

off  my  back: 
I  come  to  you  free:    I  come  to  you  with  arts  and  sciences 

and  ambitions  off  my  back: 
I  do  not  come  to  you  on  my  knees:   I  come  standing  up:    I 

take  my  place  without  asking  leave  or  giving  thanks:   I 

come  standing  up: 
Take  me,  fill  me  with  wanton  presences:   pass  me  current 

as  modest  coin  in  the  barter  of  the  affections: 
I  am  yours:   I  throw  myself  upon  your  mercy:   take  me: 

count  me  in  your  assets. 

I  have  tried  the  easy  way:   it  was  too  hard: 

Now  I  will  try  the  hard  way:  I  guess  it  will  be  easier: 

I  have  tried  not  to  love  because  I  could  not  love  that  which 

deserved  love: 
I  have  tried  not  to  think  because  I  could  only  think  that 

which  accused  my  thought. 
What  is  there  for  me  to  do  but  to  say  good  bye  and  leave? 

What  is  there  for  me  to  do? 

What  can  I  do  but  fly  from  death  and  go  where  I  find  life? 
I  see  no  other  course:  good  bye  dear  accustomed  companions 

and  places! 

I  see  no  other  course:   good  bye  dear  virtues  and  conformi 
ties! 
I  go — I  go:    the  streets  are  gay  for  me:   they  pour  out  their 

hordes  in  acclaim: 
I  go — I  go:   I  hear  my  name  called  in  a  thousand  tongues: 

a  thousand  cities  contend  for  the  prodigal: 
I  go — I  go  to  my  beloved:  my  heart  went  long  ago:  I  follow 

my  heart: 
I  too  am  driven  to  the  street. 


OPTIMOS  313 

KEEP   TO   THE   ROAD,    DEAR   CHILDREN 

Keep  to  the  road,  dear  children,  my  brothers,  my  sisters: 
It's  hard  to  press  on  but  it's  harder  to  stop:  steady!   steady! 

my  loved  ones! 

Keep  to  the  road:    do  not  turn  back:    no  matter  what  hap 
pens,  do  not  turn  back: 
There's  poverty  ahead  and  starvation  ahead  and  battle  ahead 

and  death  ahead:   I  refuse  to  see  nothing: 
Then  there's  something  more  ahead:    there's  truth   ahead: 

Do  you  hear? — truth — divine  unspeakable  truth. 
I  promise  you  no  award:    I  hang  no  fruit  on  the  trees  for 

you: 

I  expect  you  to  sustain  yourselves  as  you  go — to  drink  suffi 
cient  draughts  of  joy  out  of  your  own  hearts. 
This  is  no  play  pilgrimage,  dear  ones,  my  march  comrades: 

this  is  done  in  peril  of  gunshot: 
Here  are  adverse  seas  and  nights  and  cold  winds  and  bitter 

hates  made  into  one  vast  total  to  baffle  you: 
You  face  the  clamorous  world:    the  world:  all  the  world  is 

against  you  contesting  your  passage  with  fierce  gestures 

and  curses: 
Do  not  think  you  can  come  to  terms  with  the  world — there 

is  no  appeal  from  the  straight  road:   keep  to  the  road! 
You  have  challenged  the  masters  of  the  people  and  they  are 

everywhere  out  to  meet  you: 
The  lords  god  of  money,  the  lords  god  of  trade,  the  lords 

god  of  the  land,  are  out  to  meet  you: 
Do  not  falter:   there  is  sorrow  by  the  way  but  gladness  at 

the  end: 
Do  not  shrink:  you  can  afford  to  take  blows  you  who  are  so 

ready  to  give  love: 
Nothing  can  dissuade  us  now,  dear  ones:  nothing:   our  eyes 

are  fixed  on  the  signal  fires  beyond. 


314  OPTIMOS 

Keep  to  the  road,  my  children: 

Whatever  your  business  says  or  your  art  says — whatever  your 

kinsmen  say — keep  to  the  road! 
Whatever  yesterday  says  to  you  or  today  or  power  or  office 

whatever  they  say,  keep  to  the  road! 
I  can  hear  your  mothers  pleading  with  you — O  God!   your 

comrade  wives,  they  too  pleading: 
I  can  hear  your  fathers  pleading  with   you — O  God!    your 

comrade  husbands,  they  too  so  pleading: 
And  the  tender  ties  of  homes  appealed  to,  and  books,  and 

comforts: 
You   must   resist  all,  dear  children:    you   must  not  yield: 

come:   take  your  place  by  my  side: 
Say  your  good  byes,  cry  your  farewells  back,  but  come  on 

with  me: 
Soon  you  will  be  beyond  all  exhortation — beyond  all  sounds 

of  home  and  the  past: 

Soon  you  will  hear  only  your  own  soul  strengthening  sooth 
ing  you,  making  up  for  what  you  have  lost — 
Your  own  soul,  pouring  into  you  abundant  light:  your  own 

soul,  recognizing  and  saluting  you. 

Keep  to  the  road,  my  children — keep  to  the  road,  my  daunt 
less  darlings: 

We  have  passed  the  sharpest  turn  of  our  lifemarch — our  feet 
will  soon  be  unshackled. 

You  who  have  resisted  your  friends  ought  to  be  able  to 
resist  your  enemies: 

The  hardest  fight  is  over,  dear  children,  my  brothers,  my 
sisters: 

The  hardest  fight  was  the  love  fight — the  fight  when  those 
you  love  appealed  against  your  love: 

The  hardest  fight  was  the  joy  fight — the  fight  when  the  things 
you  enjoy  appealed  against  your  joy: 


OPTIMOS  315 

You  came  unscarred  out  of  that — came  out  with  all   your 

love  and  all  your  joy  left: 
The  sun  breaks  upon  you:    do  you  not  feel  it  tingling   in 

your  blood? — the  rest  of  the  journey  will  be  by  day. 

Come  children:  sing  hymns  to  the  mandawn  just  grown  red 

on  the  horizon: 
Come  children:   chant  reverent  greetings  to  the  new  order 

just  lifting  its  head  above  the  edge  of  the  earth: 
Come  children:   summon  the  ever  denied  youngsters,  the 

estranged  boys  and  girls,  from  the  courts  where  they 

sleep: 
Come  children:  tell  the  world  to  get  up:  tell  the  world  the 

Christ  has  come: 
Come  children:   arouse  the  slow  world — prove  that  we  are 

not  deceiving  it  with  false  good  mornings! 

Keep  to  the  road,  dear  children,  my  brothers,  my  sisters! 
On  both  sides  is  danger,  on  both  sides  is  evil,  on  both  sides 

are  the  good  things  of  the  earth: 
The  road  alone  is  safe — on  both  sides  are  your  friends  and 

your  comforts:   the  soul  alone  is  safe: 
Though  you  turn  back  now  and  the  world  forgives  you  and 

your  family  forgives  you  and  the  comforts  forgive  you: 
What  does  it  all  amount  to — if  they  all  forgive  you — if  you 

do  not  forgive  yourself? 
Keep  to  the  road,  dear  children,  my  brothers,  my  sisters! 


WHEN  YOUR   NAME   IS   CALLED 

When  your  name  is  called, 

When  out  of  the  press  of  the  crowd  and  the  noise  of  the 
street  you  hear  your  name  pronounced, 


316  OPTIMOS 

When  you  sleep  at  night  and  your  name   is  called  in  your 

dreams, 
When  you  work  and  play  and  your  name  is  called  from  your 

task  and  your  game, 
When  the  church  calls  your  name,   when  the  state   calls 

your  name, 
When  the  happy  and  unhappy  world  of  average   men  calls 

your  name  in  a  loud  voice, 
What  then  O  brother  can  you  answer? 

Have  you  been  faithful  dear  brother? 

I  do  not  ask  whether  you  have  been  faithful  to  the  laws, 

I  do  not  ask  whether  you  have  been  faithful  to  constitutions 

or  creeds, 
I  do  not  ask  whether  you  have  been  faithful  to  the  line  of 

life  marked  out  for  you  by  any  other, 
I  ask  whether  you  have  been  faithful  to  yourself, 
I  ask  whether  you  have  been  faithful  to  that  self  your  self 

which  gives  its  faith  to  man  in  the  largest  service. 
I  do  not  call  any  roll  for  you  my  brother: 
I  expect  you  to  call  the  roll  for  yourself. 
The  best  questions  and  answers  of  the  soul  are  always  to 

itself. 

When  your  name  is  called  dear  brother, 

Will  you  answer  to  that  name  with  your  soul  or  with  your 
estate  ? 

Will  you  answer  in  the  poverty  of  the  man  who  has  much 
and  keeps  nothing? 

Will  you  answer  in  the  riches  of  the  man  who  fences  him 
self  aloof  from  his  race? 

Will  you  answer  in  the  accents  of  the  tyrant  and  the  thief? 

Will  you  receive  your  name  spoken  in  gladness  and  send  it 
back  clothed  in  rue? 


OPTIMOS  317 

Will  you  answer  to  your  name  that  your  name  is  success  but 
that  the  name  of  your  neighbor  is  failure? 

Will  you  answer  to  your  name  by  the  tongue  of  a  delegate 
or  will  you  answer  to  your  name  with  your  own  lips? 

Dear  brother,  I  am  not  here  to  persuade  you  or  to  accuse 
you, 

I  am  here  asking  a  question  which  you  must  answer. 

I  am  not  here  asking  a  question  which  you  must  answer  to 
me, 

I  am  here  asking  a  question  which  you  must  answer  to  your 
self. 

It  would  be  nothing  to  you  dear  brother  to  answer  this  ques 
tion  in  a  way  to  satisfy  me, 

It  would  be  everything  to  you  dear  brother  to  answer  this 
question  in  a  way  to  satisfy  yourself. 

When  your  name  is  called  dear  brother, 

When  the  wrong  of  the  world  calls  your  name, 

When  the  starved  children  of  the  world  call  your  name, 

When  the  wars  of  the  world  call  your  name, 

When  something  in  the  day  lighter  than  the  sun  calls  your 

name, 
When  something  in  the  night  darker  than  night's  darkness 

calls  your  name, 
When  something    in    the   heart  more  sorrowful  than   the 

heart's  sorrow  calls  your  name, 
When  something  in  hope  more  confident  than  hope's  best 

assurances  calls  your  name, 
What  then  will  you  answer  dear  brother? 

Will  you  answer  in  the  answer  of  your  cruelty  to  your  fellows? 
Will  you  answer  in  the  answer  of  the  fat  of  your  overfed 
body? 


318  OPTIMOS 

Will  you  hear  your  name  called  and  say:   Wait,   give  me 

time,  I  have  so  much  booty  to  bring  along? 
Or  will  you  hear  your  name  called  and  say:  I  am  ready,  my 

hands  are  empty  of  spoil? 
When  your  name  is  called  dear  brother  the  hour  for  parley 

and  truce  is  passed, 
When  your  name  is  called  you  must  answer  offhand  with  the 

answer  of  the  spirit. 

Without  looking  about  you  to  question  the  faces  of  others, 
Without  listening  about  you  to  hear  the  answers  of  others, 
You  must  answer  to  yourself  in  the  quick  of  self  command 
When  your  name  is  called. 


HE  WAS   OF   THE   RACE   ASCENDANT 

for  Henry  George:  1897 

He   was    of    the    race    ascendant    incarnating   the  brooded 

dreams, 

He  was  a  partitioner  but  used  no  knife  to  wound, 
He  was  beamed  and  raftered  as  a  house  strong  in  the  wind. 

I  do  not  count  him  great  by  the  enemies  or  friends  he  has 
made, 

Nor  by  his  failures  and  successes,  nor  by  his  dextrous  speech, 
nor  by  his  artful  pen, 

But  by  something  underneath  all  these,  more  near  the  aver 
age  heart. 

He  is  dead,  he  fell  with  the  onward  wave  of  the  fight  driving 

death  up  the  shore, 

To  the  last  sustained  his  standard  was  unclosed  to  the  air: 
Alas!    he  is  vanished — death  has  withdrawn  him  from  the 

reel  and  the  shout: 


OPTIMOS  319 

But  the  red  banner  still  flies  in  the  place  that  it  won  by  his 

charge:   it  calls  down  to  me: 
Do  not  look  for  me  on  the  ground — /  am  here  In  the  large  spaced 

skies. 

And  so  we  buried  him  without  pomp  but  with  much  love, 
And  the  dead  face  that  we  looked  at  in  the  coffin  was  yet 

benignant  with  unharvested  promise, 
And  when  they  took  his  brave  body  from  us,  they  who  give 

the  worn  frame  to  the  unmolesting  earth, 
We,  without  voice,  happy  in  our  inheritance,  in  rank  once 

more,  freed  the  old  song  of  revolt. 


NOW  AS   I    LOOK 

for  William  Morris 

Now  as  I  look  the  long  procession  of  the  workers  trails  be 
fore  me, 

At  its  head  this  bearded  god,  a  stick  in  his  hand,  a  song  of 
liberation  upon  his  lips, 

Marching  with  him  gods  not  yet  awake,  waking,  throwing 
off  ages  old  lethargies, 

Lights  of  revived  life  streaming  from  him  to  them  and  back 
again  as  the  ominous  pageant  of  the  dispossessed  passes, 
passes,  passes. 


THE  LEAF  IN  THE  FREE  AIR   DESPISED   THE 
ROOT   UNDER   GROUND 

The  leaf  in  the  free  air  despised  the  root  under  ground, 
The  power  in  the  engine  scorned  the  black  coal  in  the  pit, 
The  sunbeam  made  merry  at  the  expense  of  the  sun, 


320  OPTIMOS 

The  moon  in  its  course  in  the  night  sky  was  jealous  of  the 

arriving  dawn, 
So,    too,    do  you,    all  you  purpled   ones,   aloof,   recreantly 

desert  your  rooftree. 

The  patient  sluggard  stream  of  the  outcast: 

These  are  people,  these  are  untitled  masters,  these  are  un- 

cloyed  creators, 

These  bend  and  break  even  the  proud  frowning  palaces. 
These  reach  you  a  rejected  palm,  these  threaten  you  with 

their  own  pallor: 
Is  all  pleasant  with  you?   is  your  ease  wholly  won? 

Have  you  not  taken  home  with  you,  in  spite  of  yourself, 
many  unpersuadable  faces? 

These  are  the  very  veins  of  your  body;  deny  them  and  you 
are  without  life: 

These  are  the  money  in  your  purse,  the  substance  and  fat 
of  possession, 

These  are  husbandmen,  to  night  and  day  bequeathed  in 
labor. 

The  sweetest  fruit  tastes  bitter  upon  the  palate  of  undeserv 
ing. 

So  many  are  lavish  of  favors  and  chary  of  justice, 

Therefore  the  people  must  wait,  therefore  they  will  toil  on 
and  on. 

Are  you  troubled  as  you  go  into  these  crowds  and  observe 
that  each  man  of  these  men,  these  men  who  are  your 
slaves,  watches  the  clock  hands  in  their  slow  sure  round? 

These  are  the  people,  these  are  the  start  and  finish  of  social 
order — 

These  are  the  people,  who  read  in  the  dial  outspread 

Warnings  to  you,  promises  to  them,  of  freedom. 


EVERYTHING  GOES  BACK 
TO  ITS  PLACE 


Why  should  you  look  and  listen  at  the  keyhole  when  the  door  of  the 

temple  is  unlocked? 
Why  should  you  take  of  the  lords  god  surreptitiously  that  which  they 

offer  you  with  an  open  hand? 
The  table  is  spread  within,   you  hear  divine  voices,  your  lords  god 

wait  till  you  assume  their  equal  place: 
Turn  the  knob  of  the  door,  enter,  be  at  home. 


Over  the  cliff  rushed  the  mad,  impatient  waters, 
Far  in  the  gorge  with  strenuous  noisy  passion  flung, 
Then  passed  in  ordered  flood  and  fed  the  farms. 


And  all  of  everything  seems  so  much  a  part  of  my  life, 

All  of  the  things  that  I  do  not  understand  as  well  as  all  of  the  things 

that  I  do  understand, 
All  of  the  things  that  I  cannot  reconcile  as  well  as  all  of  the  things  that 

I  can  reconcile, 
All  the  bitter  words  of  my  enemies  as  well  as  all  the  sweet  words  of 

my  friends, 
All  that  my  eyes  see  and  all  that  my  ears  hear  and  all  that  I  neither  see 

nor  hear, 

All  seems  to  belong  to  me,  all  seems  to  take  its  place, 
All  seems  necessary  to  the  symmetry  of  my  body  and  to  the  symmetry 

of  my  soul, 

All  seems  necessary  to  complete  the  record  for  the  audit, 
Not  a  piece  or  the  piece  of  a  piece  absent  without  peril  to  all  the  rest, 
To  make  my  love's  account  with  life  perfect  and  perfect  at  last, 
To  make  my  love's  account  with  death  perfect  and  perfect  at  last. 


EVERYTHING    GOES   BACK  TO   ITS   PLACE 

After  the  fever  and  wear  of  the  day, 
After  gain  has  made  the  worst  and  the  best  of  the  body, 
After  loss  has  made  the  worst  and  the  best  of  the  soul, 
After  struggle  has  made  the  worst  and  the  best  of  peace, 
After  disorder  has  made  the  worst  and  the  best  of  law, 
After  fragments  of  life  everywhere  have  made  the  worst  and 

the  best  of  the  whole  of  life  everywhere, 
Then  the  night  comes,  and  the  night's  reaffirmation,  and 

everything  goes  back  to  its  place. 
Then  the  master  of  men  goes  back  to  his  place  and  is  no 

more  a  master  of  men, 
Then  the  slave  goes  back  to   his  place  and   is   no   more  a 

slave, 
Then  woman  goes  back  to  her  place  and   is   no   longer  the 

dependant  of  man, 
Then  the  poor  man  goes  back  to  his  place  and  is  no  more 

in  want, 
Then  the  rich  man  goes  back  to  his  place  and  is  no  more 

fattened  with  surplus, 
Then  greatness  and  fame  go  back  to  their  places  and  care 

no  more  for  greatness  and  fame, 
Then  the  hating  worker  goes  back  to  his  place  and  loves 

his  daily  work. 

So   it   is   that  the   round  world   that   had   got  all  kinks  and 

angles  is  round  again, 
So  it  is  that  the  love  of  man  that  had  become  hate  becomes 

love  again, 
So   it   is   that   the  struggle  of  one  man  with  another  ceases 

and  every  man  begins  to  serve  every  other  man  again, 
323 


324  OPTIMOS 

So  it  is  that  the  hurt  world  gets  out  of  its  own  harm's  way 

again, 
So  it  is  that  the  tree  that  had  got  uprooted  plants  itself  in 

the  ground  again, 
So  it  is  that  the  sea  that  had  overflowed  the  land  slips  back 

to  its  bed  again, 
So  it  is  that  where  life  had  encroached  on  death  and  death 

on  life  both  resume  their  spheres  again: 
So  it  is,  so  it  is. 

My  brother,  this  is  beautiful  for  us  to  know: 

It  is  beautiful  to  know  that  nothing  is  finally  wrong  with 

the  world, 
It  is  beautiful  to  know  that  love  may  be  out  of  place  in  the 

world  but  that  it  always  has  a  place  in  the  world, 
It  is  beautiful  to  know  that  the  false  things  have  a  true  place 

in  the  world, 
It   is  beautiful   to  know  that  the  cruel   things  have  a  kind 

place  in  the  world, 

It  is  beautiful  to  know  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  how 
ever  bad  but  it  has  a  good  place  in  the  world, 
It  is  beautiful  to  know  that  even  sorrow  has  a  glad  place  in 

the  world: 
O  my  brother,  it  is  beautiful   to  know,  it   is  beautiful  to 

know: 
When  everything  goes  back  to  its  place   it  is  beautiful  to 

know. 


YOU  WHO    HAVE  SEEN  YEARS  OF  SEASONS 

You  who  have  seen  years  of  seasons, 

You  who  have  seen  mystery  dissolve  in  mystery  and  experi 
ence  refuted  by  experience, 


OPTIMOS  325 

You  weeping  mothers  and  fathers  who  have  vainly  hurled 
your  will  against  the  prevailing  will  of  death, 

You  who  have  visioned  a  passage  way  from  orb  to  orb 
through  all  the  abysses  of  space, 

You  who  have  known  that  in  the  harvest  was  the  best  seed 
time, 

You  who  have  seen  that  nothing  is  ever  lost  by  the  way  and 
that  nothing  seen  or  unseen  is  dishonored  by  disuse, 

You  it  is  I  address,  you  know  my  voice. 

I  am  bared  to  the  airs, 

In  me  behold  the  stript  tree, 

The  autumn  come  and  gone,  its  denuding  caresses  leaving 
no  garland  or  sign  of  the  spring  summer  fertilities  de 
parted: 

To  one  who  looks  I  am  only  reminiscence, 

To  one  who  looks,  brother  of  that  other,  I  am  glowing 
prophecy — 

To  myself  I  am  both  and  I  am  present  hidden  life: 

I  cover  myself  with  ice  and  snow,  I  sleep,  I  wait  my  waking, 

In  my  sap  the  courage  to  break  a  way  to  the  spring. 

Because  there  are  beginnings  and  endings,  therefore  nothing 

begins  and  nothing  ends, 
Because  the  seed  must  precede  the  life  that  comes  from  the 

seed,  therefore  rotation  is  never  interrupted, 
Because  worlds  come  from  worlds  again,  and  suns  must  light 

other  suns,  and  orbits  of  planets  grant  other  orbits  their 

laws,  therefore  continuity  is  the  seal  of  the  covenant. 

No  one  place  delays,  nowhere  in  life  or  death  is  the  impet 
uous  spirit  paced  to  a  still  stream,  one  opportunity  but 
opens  another,  sympathy  manifolds  itself  in  countless 
emanations, 


326  OPTIMOS 

The  lords  god  prevalent,  the  lords  god  transfusing  love, 
In  all  time  beginning  nothing,  ending  nothing. 


IN  THE   OLD    LAND  THE   CHRIST  WAS   SENT 
TO    DEATH 

In  the  old  land  the  Christ  was  sent  to  death, 

And   in  old  lands  and  new  the  Christs  have  preceded  and 

followed  each  other  to  the  same  cross. 

The  story  is  often  retold,  the  count  again  and  again  is  made. 
But  here  were  thousands  of  Christs  for  one  Christ, 
Here  were  Christs  in  battalions  given  to  save  the  earth  from 

wreck, 
Here  were  Christs  in  black  and  white,  Christs  in  childhood 

and  old  age,  offered  as  tribute  to  the  shaken  globe: 
Christs  who  stood  before  menace  and  took  the  blow,  Christs 

evil  and  good  who  shared  the  single  sacrifice, 
Here  quickened  in  one  deed  to  poise  the  reeling  sphere, 
In  stranger  ways,  in  an  untoward  hour,  going  to  crosses  like 

any  Christ  supreme, 

Spending  sweet  blood  as  good  from  lavish  veins. 
You  have  worshiped  the  old  Christs — you  have  told  won 
derful  tales  about  them, 
But  here  are  Christs  round  whose  ascension  tales  fully  as 

wonderful  must  be  told. 
All  has  been  said  about  the   great   Christs:    but   here  are 

Christs  little,  greater  than  the  greatest. 
And  the  Christs  do  not  surprise  me:    they  come  without 

eclat  or  call:  it  seems  so  natural  for  them  to  arise: 
The  Christs  without  degree  or  exception — the  Christs  of 

the    loom   and    mine:    and   babes,    Christs    also,    who 

starve   to  verify  our  sins. 
Saint  Pierre!  a  cross  nearby  my  heart! 


OPTIMOS  327 

On  your  aureoled  square   twenty  thousand  bodies  are  out 
stretched: 
Withdrawn  from  Judea,  withdrawn  from  everywhere  else, 

here  the  cross  resumed  its  mission: 
Here  the  soul  was  addressed  from  the  bush  and  the  flame 

once  more: 
In  this  strange  horror  transfixed,  the  faces  of  martyrs  were 

radiant  with  benign  love: 
The  men  and  women  withdrawn  from  their  toil  to  the  cross 

— the  children  from  their  play: 
Dead  here  that  I  might  live:   quickened  and  transfigured  to 

shield  the  common  crowds. 

You  have  hurried  to  accuse  God:   I  accuse  no  one: 
You  have  hastened  to  pardon  God:   I  pardon  no  one: 
Do  you  think  I  needed  to  wait  for  this  event  to  account  for 

god  or  devil? 
Do  you  think  I  could  regard  without  fear  the  sorrows  of 

living  and  then  shrink  like  a  craven  before  the  blast  of 

death  ? 
Do  you  think  that  if  I  doubted  God  in  this  shadowing  fire 

I  could  mix  God  again  in  the  red  of  any  joy? 
All  is  accursed  or  nothing  is  accursed:   all  is  rescued  or  all 

is  lost: 
And  God  is  not  evil  to  me  in  evil  who  is  not  evil  to  me  in 

good: 
For  back  of  Saint  Pierre  is  all  life  again:  back  of  Pelee  is  a 

higher  crest  than  its  own: 

Behind  all  fires  that  consume  is  a  fire  that  saves. 
With  faith  now  final   I   lift  my  cup  of  comforting  water  to 

the  lips  of  this  fevered  crater: 
For  if  I  doubted  this  demonstration  of  God  I  would  lose  all 

touch  with  the  universe: 
And  I  see  nothing  more  that  means  death  at  the  mouth  of  a 

volcano  than  at  the  most  placid  bedside: 


328  OPTIMOS 

And  I  am  no  more  willing  to  concede  you  cruelty  here  than 
when  hands  and  eyes  meet  in  love  and  all  is  peace: 

For  somehow  I  can  feel  even  in  all  this  murk  and  in  these 
darting  fangs  of  flame  and  in  the  light  upshot  and  lost 
and  in  the  suffocating  gases, 

The  impact  of  the  same  presence  that  smoothes  your  pain 
away — 

The  look  of  the  same  eyes  that  lead  your  ways  of  compen 
sating  salvation: 

Here  the  same,  here  at  the  crater's  mouth, 

Here  with  Christ  reshriven  where  riot  is  made  of  law, 

The  smile  of  Christ  in  all  the  din  and  black 

In  restoring  calm  unfaltered. 


WHILE   I   AM   WAITING 

While  I  am  waiting  for  the  flower  why  should  I  doubt  the 

seed? 
While  I  am  waiting  for  you  to  love  me  why  should  I  doubt 

your  love? 
While  I  am  waiting  for  the  ship  to  come  in  why  should  I 

doubt  the  ship? 
While  I  am  waiting  for  the  total  why  should  I   doubt  the 

pieces? 

While  I  am  waiting  for  tomorrow  why  should  I  doubt  to 
day? 
While  I  am  waiting  for  the  sun  why  should  I  doubt  the 

eclipse? 
While   I  am  waiting  to  be  happy  why  should  I  doubt  my 

grief? 
While   I  am  waiting  for  the  end  why  should   I  doubt  the 

chapters  ? 
The  flower  is  only  complete  in  sterility  and  the  flower, 


OPTIMOS  329 

Love  is  only  complete  in  love  and  the  denial  of  love, 

The  ship  is  only  complete  in  the  wreck  and  the  safety  of 
the  ship, 

The  globe  is  only  complete  in  the  globe  and  the  emptying 
of  space, 

Time  is  only  complete  in  time  and  the  absence  of  time, 

The  sun  is  only  complete  in  the  sun  and  the  darkness  with 
out  the  sun, 

Happiness  is  only  complete  in  happiness  and  the  sorrow 
that  happiness  encloses, 

The  tale  is  only  complete  in  the  printed  page  and  the  lines 
unwritten. 

I  wait  for  my  soul  but  I  do  not  cavil  over  my  soul, 

I   go   on  forever  voyaging  satisfied  with   the   terms   of  the 

voyage, 
The  skies  are  my  fastsworn  allies  and  I  trust  in  the  pledge 

of  the  clouds, 
The  soil  is  my  quickstrong  companion  husbanding  the  seed 

that  I  drop. 
If  I  denied  the  world  in  its  wrong  how  could  I  accept  the 

world  in  its  right? 
If  I  dodged  the  blow  of  my  lover  how  could   I   melt  to  the 

caress  ? 
If  I  knew  the  deep  sea  for  cruel  how  could  I  know  it  for 

kind? 
I  mole  in  the  earthiest  darkness  without  extinguishing  the 

day, 
I  fly  to  the  outermost  sunfires  without  taking  leave  of  the 

night. 
How  could  I  work  for  my  fellows  if  the  stars  were  not 

working  for  me? 
I  but  take  the  hand  reached  from  the  darkness  and  pass  its 

palm  on  to  the  next. 


330  OPTIMOS 

I  who  can  believe  in  the  house  I   live  in  do  not  doubt  the 

house  of  houses, 
I  who  can  believe  in  the  flesh  of  your  eager  right  hand  do 

not  doubt  the  hands  touching  me  from  the  unseen, 
I  who  can  believe  words  I  hear  cannot  deny  the  words  I  do 

not  hear, 

I  who  surrender  to  voices  cannot  remain  deaf  to  the  voice, 
I  who  can  see  you  with  eyes  can  see  you  when  eyes  cannot 

see, 
The  cup  is  fullest  when  drained  if  you  drink  from  the  cup 

while  you  love. 

I  can  wait. 

The  world  has  waited  long  for  me,  I  can  wait  for  the  world, 
Justice  has  waited  long  for  me,  I  can  wait  for  justice, 
Love  has  waited  long  for  me,  O  such  love's  love  of  passion, 

and  I  can  wait  long  for  love,  O  such  love's  love  of 

passion! 

I  can  wait,  O  beautiful  assurance — I  can  wait, 
Wait  while  things  go  wrong  until  they  go  right, 
Wait  while  death  seeds  life  until  life  seeds  death, 
Wait  while  men  weep  until  men  laugh, 
I  can  wait,  I  can  wait,  I  can  wait, 
And  while  waiting  can  love. 


AFTER   THE   LAST    FRIEND   IS   GONE 

After  the  last  friend  is  gone, 
After  the  last  word  of  reproach  has  been  said, 
After  the  last  drop  of  water  has  dried  out  of  the  sea, 
After  the  last  seed  has  turned  to  dust  in  the  sterile  ground, 
After  the  judges  and  the  jurors  have  convicted  me  and  with 
drawn  one  by  one, 


OPTIMOS  331 

After  the  advisers  and  the  censurers  have  spoken  and  hurried 

away, 
After  the  elect  have  threatened  me  with  nonelect  penalties 

and  turned  their  broadclothed  backs, 
After  the  crowd  has  threatened  me  with  majorities  and  gone 

aside  to  confer, 
After    mothers   and   fathers  and   sisters  and  brothers  have 

pleaded  a  parting  word  of  caution  and  passed  beyond 

with  the  rest, 
When  I  stand  alone  in  the  darkness  the  shelters  and  shields 

all  down, 
When  the  world  without  and  within  has   snuffed    all    its 

lights  and  closed  its  show, 

Then  I  somehow  begin  to  get  acquainted  with  myself, 
Then  I  begin  to  see  what  I  really  am  and  can  do, 
Then  I  see  that  a  false  self  has  all  these  years  been  playing 

my  part, 
Then   I   see  that  the  life   I   lived  in  the  world  was  not  my 

heart's  life  or  my  soul's  life, 
Then  I  see  that  I  have  been  hiding  from  myself  all  this 

time. 
I   hear  the  last  door  shut,  I  hear  the  footfalls  of  the  last 

guardian  die  away, 

I  see  the  last  ray  of  the  sun  disappear  down  the  corridors, 
I  am  at  last  alone,  alone  with  myself, 
As  in  a  desert  alone  with  myself,  as  in  the  black  night  alone 

with  myself, 
After  the  last  gifts  of  the  world  are  taken  away. 

had  all  the  world  had  in  the  world  to  give  me: 
had  all  that  friendship  had  in  friendship  to  give  me, 
had  all  that  property  had  in  property  to  give  me, 
had  all  that  work  had  in  work  to  give  me, 
had  all  that  beauty  had  in  beauty  to  give  me, 


332  OPTIMOS 

I  had  all  that  pleasure  had  in  pleasure  to  give  me, 
I  had  all  that  passion  had  in  passion  to  give  me, 
I  had  all  that  worship  had  in  worship  to  give  me: 
I  was  poured  full  and  run  over  with  all  that_the  world  had 
to  give  me. 

Yet  I  went  about  my  life  and  had  not  found  a  way  to  live, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  property  and  property  was 

not  propertiful, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  work  and  work  was  not 

workful, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  beauty  and  beauty  was  not 

beautiful, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  pleasure  and  pleasure  was 

not  pleasureful, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  passion  and  passion  was 

not  passionful, 
Yet  I  went  about  in  the  midst  of  worship  and  worship  was 

not  worshipful. 

Then  the  quarrel  came,  then  my  one  life  quarreled  with  my 

other  life, 

Then  the  friends  departed,  then  the  properties  all  departed, 
Then  fame  departed,  then  power  departed, 
Then  the  shadow  fell,  then  the  grasses  disappeared  and  left 

me  on  the  bleak  sands, 
Then   life   came   upon   life   in   the   first  rapture   of  naked 

recognition. 


I  AM   NOT  AFRAID  TO  TURN  THE   CORNER 

I  am  not  afraid  to  turn  the  corner: 

1  know  what  is  round  there  and  am  satisfied: 


OPTIMOS  333 

I  know  that  hate  is  round  there  and  cruelty  and  that  I  must 
suffer  as  well  as  enjoy, 

But  I  know  that  love  also  is  round  there,  ceaseless  love. 

I  hear  voices:  voices  that  caution  me  against  my  loyal  jour 
neys. 

But  no  matter  what  are  the  warnings  they  post  on  the  un 
certain  road, 

I  go  my  way  without  a  stop,  in  the  full  knowledge  of  love's 
loss  and  love's  gain, 

My  way  to  the  end  and  the  beginning  again  without  a  stop, 

My  soul  and  my  body  agreed  that  neither  is  to  falter  or 
retreat. 

If  I  was  afraid  to  turn  the  corner  I  would  be  afraid  to  be 
here, 

If  I  was  afraid  of  what  I  do  not  see  I  would  be  afraid  of 
what  I  see, 

If  I  was  afraid  to  put  the  seed  in  the  ground  I  would  be 
afraid  to  eat  the  fruit  of  the  orchard. 

I  know  that  life  has  all  love's  surprises  to  share  with  me: 
they  are  countless: 

And  I  know  that  the  universe  is  no  fool  to  throw  me  as  a 
spent  thing  into  a  void: 

It  never  occurs  to  me  that  I  am  to  be  deceived: 

That  death  could  deceive  life  whatever  death  does, 

That  the  imperfect  could  deceive  the  perfect  whatever  im 
perfection  may  corrupt, 

That  facts  could  deceive  my  dreams  however  hard  the  stones 
of  the  street  may  be. 

I  can  see  no  reason  why  the  universe  should  waste  me, 

I  can  see  every  reason  why  the  universe  should  make  use  of 
me — 

Yes,  make  the  best  use  of  me,  immortal  use,  for  all  the 
years  to  come. 

Come  with  me,  dear  brother, 


334  OPTIMOS 

Come  with  your  doubts,  come  with  your  weaker  feet, 

Come  with  me  on  this  dreaded  pilgrimage: 

I  tell  you  all  is  beautiful  round  the  corner  in  spite  of  your 

fears, 
That  even  the  shadows  are  beautiful  and  the  deaths  before 

their  time, 

Because  love  is  beautiful  and  love  takes  care  of  all  its  darl 
ing  children. 
Do   you    tremble,    thinking   you   may   be    forgotten    in   the 

crowd  ? 
Love  forgets  no  one:   above  all  others,  you  who  need  more 

than  all  others,  love  will  call  your  name. 
I  have  counted  up  all  the  figures  of  love  and  I  find  I  cannot 

be  left  out, 

And  I  find  that  you  could  not  be  left  out,  nor  a  single  per 
son  be  left  out, 
And  I  find  that  if  anyone  thinks  he  can  be  left  out  he  has 

fooled  his  own  soul, 
For  the  way  and  the  end  are  fixed  and  faultless  and  cannot 

be  escaped, 

And  the  way  and  the  end  are  the  way  and  the  end  of  love, 
And  no  matter  how  many  corners  you  turn  or  how  sharp  the 

corners, 
Love   is  always  there  ahead   of  you  waiting  for  you  with 

open  arms. 
I  do  not  need  to  put  the  universe  under  bonds  to  treat  me 

with  love's  good  will, 
The  universe  cannot  help  itself,  it  must  treat  me  well  and 

best, 
Because   the  design  of  all   is  love's  design  and  cannot  be 

evaded, 
And   I  and  you  and  everyone  but  come  into  the   general 

bounty  wherever  we  go: 
I  am  not  afraid  to  turn  the  corner. 


OPTIMOS  335 

HE   ASKED   TO    BE   LIFTED    UP 

He  asked  to  be  lifted  up: 

The   old  man  who   had   bravely  carried  the   burden   of  his 

years : 

He  looked  beyond  to  the  hills  and  beyond  the  hills, 
He  looked  beyond  to  space  and  time  and  beyond  space  and 

time, 

Trusting  his  body  and  his  soul  to  supporting  hands. 
Something  unseen  takes  from  you  the   dead  weight  of  your 

bankruptcy, 

You  surrender  to  it  the  cruel  and  unendurable  tasks, 
You  feel  that  it  is  sufficient  to  sustain  you  when  you  can  no 

longer  sustain  yourself. 

What   is   it  that  reaches  out  to  me  from  incomputable  dis 
tances  and  years? 

Under  me  is  the  great  earth  to  bear  me  up, 
Under  the  earth  are  earths  of  farther  space, 
And  under  all  earths  a  something  still  invisible  more  strong 

to  uphold  than  all  the  drifting  orbs. 
Could  I  anyhow  fall  away  from  this  arm? 
I  drop  down  and  down  and  down — it  always  catches  me: 
There  is  no  abyss  but  it  is  at  the  bottom, 
I  commit  no  crime  or  sin  but  it  works  up  from  under  and 

makes  me  pure. 
Do  you  believe  that  the  buildings  have  foundations  and  that 

you  have  none? 

That  virtue  has  foundations  and  that  vice  has  none? 
There  is  but  one  arm — it  is  around  all — it  lifts  everything: 

do  you  feel  it  tenderly  steadying  you? 
But  take  it  away  for  an  instant  and  all  will  lapse   in  a  dead 

pool, 
The  good  and  bad  will  lapse,  whatever  of  life  will   lapse, 

whatever  of  beauty  or  hate. 


336  OPTIMOS 

Did  you  think  that  sometime  the  base  would  be  taken  from 

under  your  life? 
That  the  gods  would  forego  their  privileges  and  stray  off 

taking  care  of  themselves  and  forgetting  you? 
But  the  arm  is  always  there  in  its  place. 
No  peril  is  too  sudden  for  its  ceaseless  vigil: 
When  the  baby  just  born  dies  the  arm  is  there  to  break  its 

death, 
When  the  old  man  asks  to  be  lifted  up  the  arm  is  there  to 

answer  him: 
The  same  arm,  sleeplessly  loyal,  redeeming  its  promise  to 

stay: 
Not  stopping  to  ask  whether  you  have  earned  its  immortal 

suffrage. 

I  feel  it  now,  this  minute,  serving  me, 
Raising  me  with  perfect  ease  as  high  as  the  standards  of  the 

day, 
Not  lifting  me  to  heaven  for  desert  and  dropping  me  into 

hell  for  desert, 
But  holding  me  only  up  to  myself,  to  the  level   it  knows  I 

live  on. 

The  suicide  tired  of  life  jumped  right  into  its  keep, 
All  enemies  and  friends  are  succored  in  the  same  embrace, 
It  fails  nothing,  not  any  hour  I  sleep,  not  any  hour  I  am  off 

guard: 
It  lifts  me  up — eternally  lifts  me  up. 


WHERE   DOES   IT   COME   FROM? 

Where  does  it  come  from — this  tingle  of  my  flesh  for  the 

answer  of  the  flesh? 
Where  does   it   come  from — this  ecstasy  of  my  soul  for  the 

answer  of  the  soul? 


OPTIMOS  337 

It  fills  me  until  I  run  over,  it  empties  me  until  I  run  dry, 

and  does  not  explain: 
It  visits  me  in  sorrow  and  visits  me  in  gladness  and  does  not 

explain: 
It  sins  through  me,  its  goodness  is  good   through  me,  and 

yet  it  does  not  explain: 
To  me  it  does  not  explain — to  me,  the  asker  of  questions, 

it  does  not  explain. 

I  stood  irresolutely  at  the  door  of  explanation  with  my  hand 

on  the  knob: 
I  stood  there  and  argued  with  myself  and   did   not  go  in — 

no,  I  turned  and  went  away. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  the  door  of  explanation  was  the  door 

of  death — 
It  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  secret  was  given  out  to  me  I 

would  die  at  once: 
I  knew  then  that  if  I  ever  found  the  knot  untied  I  should 

say  good  bye  to  the  finished  worlds: 
So  I  did  not  go  in — I  turned  away  and  found  my  way  back 

to  the  companioning  crowd. 

I  look  at  myself  and  I  say:   What  a  puzzle  I  am!      And  I 

ask  myself:  Who  can  unravel  me? 
Suppose  all  was  told — suppose  I  exhausted  the   treasures  of 

revelation? 
I  shuddered  and  shrank  away:  I  was  so  eager  to  be  alive  and 

so  hated  to  think  about  life! 
The  pall  of  wisdom  was  upon  me  and  I  was  unequal  to  the 

load. 
Somehow  1  feel  that  the  fool  alone   is  perfectly  at  ease   in 

the  universe. 
The  fool  alone  is  at  home  among  things,  on  whatever  stars 

or  suns,  without  license  or  restraint, 


338  OPTIMOS 

The  fool  soul  finding  its  fool  welcome  wherever  it  goes. 

I  hear  men  praying — praying  to  know  all  and  more  than  all: 
I,  too,  pray — pray  to  know  nothing  and  less  than  nothing. 
I  am  sick  to  death  of  knowing  things  and  the  burden  of 

things, 
I  am  well   to  life  of  knowing  nothing  and  of  my  empty 

hands. 
The  lords  god  have  been  very  generous  to  me — they  have 

sent  me  undeniable  treasures, 
Each  day  I  pass  them  all  back  because  it  is  enough  for  me 

and  too  much  to  have  nothing. 

Let  me  speak,  O   lords  god,  in  the  language  of  the  first 

silences: 

I  break  loose  in  song,  I  am  mad  with  the  rhythms  of  praise: 
I  live  the  life  of  feasting  and  starvation  without  the  knowl 
edge  of  gladness  and  sorrow, 
I   pass  among  men  as  a  man  who  can  live  and  not  suspect 

the  quality  or  the  plenty  of  life. 
They  say  of  me:    He  knows  nothing — he  is  one  of  God's 

fools. 

I  open  my  first  eyes  upon  the  glory  of  the  green  earth, 
I  gesture  with  my  first  arms  in  the  blind  exhilaration  of  the 

animal  at  play  in  the  field, 
I   do   not  try  to  pronounce  the   simplest  syllables   of    the 

schools: 
They  baffle  me  with  their  show,  they  cheat  me  with  their 

substance. 
I  stand  with  the  trees  that  know  nothing  of  the  alphabet  of 

criticism  and  could  not   tell   me  why  the  seed  comes 

before  the  flower, 
I  stand  with  the  cloud  that  floats  across  the  sky  and  could 

not  tell  me  why  the  rain  falls, 


OPTIMOS  339 

I  stand  with  the  dreamers  of  crazy  dreams  which  give  no 

account  of  themselves, 
I  stand  with  all  these,  my  comrade  fools,  God's  fool  among 

God's  dear  fools, 

With  my  reason  shut,  fast  shut,  explaining  nothing, 
With  my  eyes  open,  wide  open,  seeing  everything. 
Where  does  it  come  from? 


I   HAVE  TAKEN   THE   BAD   WITH   THE 
GOOD 

I  have  taken  the  bad  with  the  good  and  been  happy: 

In  the  irresolution  of  slow  days  have  taken  the  bad  with  the 
good: 

Not  waiting  to  be  approved  but  going  about  my  business 
without  a  question: 

Being  called  back  a  thousand  times  by  those  who  loved  me 
and  by  those  who  feared  what  I  was  going  to: 

Meeting  with  enemies,  often  having  to  fight  my  way  through 
them  inch  by  inch: 

Not  always  being  so  dead  sure  yet  always  being  sure  enough 
to  go  on: 

I  and  my  little  enterprise,  divine  companions,  loving  each 
other,  side  by  side: 

Through  twenty  years  of  toil  standing  together,  keeping  no 
account  of  what  it  cost — 

Knowing,  of  course,  that  it  would  cost  love  but  being  will 
ing  to  pay  love  as  long  as  love  lasted: 

Refuting  resentments,  overcoming  despairs,  only  remember 
ing  the  thing  that  needed  to  be  done  and  driving  fear 
fully  and  fearlessly  towards  it: 

That  sacred  impossible  thing  which  it  became  our  possible 
task  to  do — 


340  OPTIMOS 

Going  a  little  farther  out  of  camp,  reaching  a  little  more 

beyond  the  frontiers,  taking  man  a  little  nearer  his  own 

design: 
That  being  the  appointed  result,  that  being  what  we  gave 

ourselves  to  do — myself  and  my  comrade: 
Not  saying  now  today  that  we  have  failed  or  succeeded, 

only  saying  that  we  have  tried: 
Not  saying  now  today  that  we  have  been  loyal  or  disloyal, 

only  saying  that  we  have  been  happy: 

0  so  happy  even   in  the   defeats  and  mists  of  calamitous 

times:   so  happy,  O  so  happy! 

1  did  not  always  know  what  the  world  was  about  but  I  always 

knew  what  I  was  about, 

And  so  often  when  it  looked  as  though  I'd  have  to  quit  be 
cause  the  world  said  I  should  quit,  the  odds  against  us 
being  too  great, 

Then  somehow  it  looked  more  as  though  I'd  have  to  con 
tinue  because  my  heart  said  continue: 

For  I  did  not  embark  without  knowing  how  much  of  my 
daily  substance  would  have  to  be  given  for  this  price 
less  shadow: 

I  did  not  start  making  light  of  the  journey  or  supposing  I 
was  a  spoiled  darling  of  fortune: 

I  saw  before  I  took  a  step  that  I  was  in  for  a  tussle  of  life 
or  death: 

And  so  I  planned  for  patience  and  prayed  for  grit  and  most 
of  all  filled  myself  with  love: 

For  I  knew  that  love  would  take  me  on  without  fail  after 
all  other  supports  had  given  out: 

For  I  knew  that  love  would  stand  by  me  as  long  as  I  stood 
by  love: 

And  so  after  all,  in  spite  of  the  laughter  of  the  crowd  that 
saw  my  boat  launched  and  heard  my  hurrahs — 


OPTIMOS  341 

After  all,  in  spite  of  the  jeers  or  the  silences  of  those  who 
stood  there  and  saw  me  set  sail — 

In  spite  of  all  that  they  said  or  did  not  say  I  was  not  suspi 
cious  of  myself — I  had  no  doubt  I  was  steered  into  the 
right  course: 

Knowing  from  something  within  me  that  I  was  obliged  to 
accept  this  challenge  no  matter  what  consequence  it 
led  to — 

Whether  it  led  to  reward  or  ruin,  whether  it  led  to  discovery 
or  oblivion. 

Shall  I  say  anything  now  about  the  terrors  of  the  voyage? 
I  do  not  pretend   that   I   have  always  been  joyful  or  always 

been  true: 
I  too  have  gone  way  down:    has  anyone  gone  down  deeper 

than  I  have? 
I  too  have  gone  way  up:   has  anyone  gone  higher  up  than  I 

have  ? 
Some  days  the  storms   were  extra   thick  and  my  pulse  was 

extra  slow — 
Some  days  I  looked  above  to  where  the  pennant  was  flying 

in  the  contrary  winds: 
And  then   I  asked  questions — then  I  wondered  if  the  code 

was  worth  while  or  if  I  was  worth  while: 
Then  I  was  puzzled  and  ready  to  drop  the  thing  where  it 

was  and  confess  myself  outplayed: 
Oh!  yes:  I  too  have  burned  and  seared  in  that  hell  knowing 

its  fiercest  devouring  fires: 
And  I  dont  understand  why  I  did  not  surrender  right  then 

and  there  instead  of  pushing  on: 
But  I  pushed  on:   I  stopped  wondering  and  questioning  and 

pushed  on: 

Taking  that  which  I  could  not  see  for  granted:  taking  vic 
tory  for  granted: 


342  OPTIMOS 

In  the  poverties  taking  riches  for  granted,  in  the  unforgiving 

battle  taking  the  forgiving  peace  for  granted: 
Shutting  my  eyes,  confining  myself  to  what  was  inside  me: 

taking  my  heart  and  its  love  for  granted: 
Then  going  on  and  on  and  on — in  the  bitter  cold  sailing 

into  the  eclipsing  veil: 
Going  on  and  on  and  on:   taking  my  heart  and  its  love  for 

granted. 

Well — I  have  arrived  somewhere  but  I  do  not  know  where 

I  have  arrived, 
And  I  come  to  something  but  I  do  not  know  what  it  is  I 

come  to, 
And  my  adventure  has  not  been  wasted  though  I  could  not 

give  you  any  evidence  of  its  success, 
And  my  love  has  not  been  misplaced:    my  unshakable  love: 

and  yet  I  could  not  put  it  into  figures  in  a  report, 
And  so  it  may  be  that  I  who  commenced   in  such  mystery 

remain  enshrouded  in  the  mystery  with  which  I  com 
menced, 
And  it  may  be  that  it  would  not  be  best  for  me  to  know 

anything  or  much  about  my  gains  or  losses: 
So  that  now,  standing  before  you  with  my  hat  off,  helpless, 

neither  innocent  nor  guilty — 
So  that  now  I  can  say  no  more  than  that  I  have  done  my 

best  and  served  in  love: 
I  have  taken  the  bad  with  the  good  and  been  happy. 


GOING   WITH    HEART   SO   SURE 

Going  with  heart  so  sure  to  the  edge  of  the  world  we  know, 
Counting  the  miles  allowed,  counting  the  quota  of  years, 
Exact  to  an  inch  the  field,  exact  to  a  second  the  lease, 


OPTIMOS  343 

Surveying  the  vista  without  hope,  entrusting  to  the  soul  only 

its  mortal  errands, 

Keeping  all  threatened  adventure  home  in  the  safe  confines, 
Taking  no  chances  with  space,  taking  no  liberties  with  time, 
Settling  each  bill  before  nightfall  and  fearing  to  borrow  on 

next  day, 

Knowing  nothing  of  beyonds,  conceding  no  farther  bounds, 
Holding  impatient  pioneers  back  in  inherited  lands. 
These  were  the  guardians  of  youth,  these  were  the  censors 

of  age, 
Giving  to   the  preface   of  the   certain  day  the  finis  of  the 

certain  night, 

Year  after  year  maintained  in  the  likeness  of  similar  years, 
Not  seeing  that  the  amplest  horizon  but  leads  to  a  larger 

circle  farther  on, 
Always  keeping  death  close  upon  the  heels  of  birth,  forever 

reminding  the  beginning  of  the  end, 
Giving  to  the  usual  paths  the  preferences  of  the  settled  soul. 

This  was  what  I  was  born  into  and  this  was  what  you  called 

life, 

This  you  felt  was  sure,  here  the  ground  was  under  your  feet: 
In  the  vaguer  pastures  outside,  in  the  dimming  cloudlands 

ahead,  you  saw  nothing  but  menaces  gathered. 
I   looked,  looked  past  all  looking,  looked  into  the  shaded 

wilds, 

I  saw  life  released  into  the  authority  of  larger  life. 
I  heard  your  cries,  and  as  I  went  on  heard  that  they  fell 

behind. 

I  had  not  asked  for  safety,  I  had  only  asked  for  life, 
In  the  life  you  called  life  I  could  find  safety  but  I  could  not 

find  life. 
I   wandered   to   the   last  allotment   of  earth,    accepting   its 

measured  acres, 


344  OPTIMOS 

I  went  with  the  most  of  men  the  last  allowed  foot  of  space, 
I  spent  with  the  most  of  men  the  last  prescribed  minute  of 

time, 
Then  I  said  good  bye  and  leapt  into  the  saving  void. 

I  needed  room  to  be  safe,  I   could  not  be   safe   in  a  little 

room:   I  needed  much  room: 
I  needed  time  to  be  safe,  I  could  not  be  safe  in  a  little  time: 

I  needed  much  time: 
I  needed  danger  and  disaster  and  deprivation  to  be  safe,  I 

could  not  be  safe  in  the  velvet  repose  of  plenty, 
I  could  not  find  safety  in  the   dead  pool,  I   stagnated  with 

the  pool, 
I  could  only  find  safety  in  the  tides  of  rivers  and  the  currents 

of  seas,  I  was  alive  with  the  river  and  the  sea. 

I  go  with  any  man  as  far  as  any  man  has  man  to  go, 

I  go  with  safety  as  far  as  safety  has  safety  to  go, 

I  go  with  logic  as  far  as  logic  has  logic  to  go, 

I  go  with  rules  and  forms  as  far  as  rules  and  forms  have  rule 

and  form  to  go, 

I  go  with  virtue  as  far  as  virtue  has  virtue  to  go, 
I  go  with  love,  O  love  with  love,  as  far  as  love  has  love  to  go, 
I  go  with  all  things  as  far  as  all  things  have  all  to  go, 
Then   say   good  bye   and   stake    my  fortune  on    the    issue 

abroad, 

Abandoning  all  charts  and  anchorages  to  keep  my  appoint 
ment  with  life, 

Sailing  out  of  sight  of  safety  to  be  safe, 
Going  with  step  so  sure  as  far  as  my  bondsmen  will  go, 
Then    leaving   the  bondsmen  behind    and    continuing    the 

journey  alone, 

Not  doubting  that  life  will  there  find  something  better  than 
ground  for  my  feet  to  tread, 


OPTIMOS  345 

With  sail  so  sure  sailing  the  unsailed  waters, 
With  step  so  sure  breaking  into  the  pathless  lands: 
Going  with  heart  so  sure,  with  heart  so  sure. 


I    DONT    KNOW  WHAT    GOD    IS   ABOUT 
ALL    DAY 

I  dont  know  what  God  is  about  all  day, 

I  dont  know  what  he  does  with  the  sun  and  the  moon  when 

I'm  not  looking, 

But  I  guess  it's  something  mighty  good  for  us  all  and  some 
thing  to  last  forever. 

I  am  not  let  into  all  the  secrets  of  the  world: 
Lots  of  things  happen  and  I  dont  know  they  happen, 
And  lots  of  other  things  happen  and  I  cant  explain  them, 
And  there  are  births  and  deaths  that  seem  queer  to  me  ana1 

rack  my  heart, 
And  bad  men  grow  rich  and  good  men  grow  poor  and  I  dont 

see  the  reason  for  it, 
And  there  seems  to  be  less  affection  in  the  world  sometimes 

than  there  ought  to  be  and  that  troubles  my  soul, 
And  some  man  or  woman  I  have  done  the  most  for  likes  me 

the  least  and  I  am  broken  up  over  it, 

And  seed  planted  in  good  faith  often  never  comes  to  a  crop, 
And  the  vagrant  spring  often  produces  the  dutiful  abundant 

harvest, 
And  ambition  and  worship  and  fortune  so  many  times  go  by 

contraries  and  in  spite  of  our  loyal  faith, 
So   that  with   these  griefs  and  griefs  added  to  them  I  am 

puzzled  and  stricken — 
I  shake  my  head  a  bit  and  wonder  what  God  has  been  about 

all  day  to  let  so  much  slip  through  God's  fingers  that 

does  not  seem  to  be  the  work  of  God. 


346  OPTIMOS 

Yet  I  guess  a  good  deal  goes  on  that  I  know  little  or  noth 
ing  about, 

A  good  deal  that  would  make  much  or  make  all  clear, 
So  that  I  do  not  feel   like  saying  words  about  God  that  I 

would  regret. 
It's  very  certain  enough  goes  on  back  of  the  seed  to  explain 

why  the  seed  fails, 

Or  behind  my  brother  to  show  why  my  brother  fails, 
Or  behind  rewards  or  lack  of  rewards  to  show  why  the  bill 

of  fate  is  paid  or  is  not  paid, 
Or  behind  my  daily  labor  to  show  why  my  perverse   feet 

carry  me  away  from  my  dearest  dreams. 
Behind  all  the  storms  God  must  be  about  something, 
Behind  all   the  things  that  seem   to  go  bad  God  must  be 

about  something  that  is  sure  to  go  good, 
Behind  all  the  injustice  of  the  earth  God  must  be  about 

something  beneficent  for  the  earth, 
Behind  all  the  days  that  pass  crooked  God  must  be  about 

something  to  pass  straight. 
Because  I   do  not  know  what  God   is  about  every  hour  of 

every  day  must  I  conclude  God  is  about  some  evil? 
Is  it  not  easier  to  see  that  God  must  be  about  some  good 

than  to  see  that  God  must  be  about  some  evil? 
I  do  not  deny  that  I  am  bothered  some  by  the  reticences  of 

God: 

Such  things  throw  me  off  the  scent  of  God — 
Such  things  make  me  wonder  if  God  is  after  all  doing  God's 

best  for  us  or  is  leading  us  into  a  corral, 
And  I  now  and  then  come  to  conclusions  which  are  treach 
erous  with  despair. 
But  though  I  go  away  from  God  I  invariably  come  back  to 

God, 
And  though  I  find  it  hard  to  explain  God's  ways  I  find  it 

harder  not  to  explain  God's  ways, 


OPTIMOS  347 

And  though  God  so  often  says  "wait"  when  I  ask  God 

questions,  or  says  nothing, 
I   go  the  way  of  my  hunger,   I  go  the  way  of  my  thirst, 

committed  to  the  necessity  of  God. 
Dear  sisters,  dear  brothers,  I  suspect  that  a  great  revelation 

will  some  day  before  long  remake  and  glorify  the  com 
mon  life, 
And  I  suspect  that  we  will  then  find  what  it  is  God  is  about 

all  day, 
And  I  suspect  that  we  will  find   in  spite  of  eclipses  and 

wrecks  and  losses  and  sicknesses  God  is  about  good  all 

day  and  nothing  but  good, 
And  I  suspect  that  we  will  find  that  God  is  about  love — all 

day  is  about  love, 
And  I  suspect  that  we  will  find  that  God  who  may  miss 

being  about  some  things  will  never  miss  being  about 

love, 
And  I  suspect  that  we  will  find  that  somehow  even  in  the 

fruit  that  comes  to  nothing  and  the  people  who  come 

to  nothing  God  is  about  love — 
I  suspect  that  somehow  it  will  all  be  explained  and  that  it 

will  all  be  about  love: 
That's  what  I  suspect,  dear  comrades,  and  that's  what  I 

whisper  to  you  now  that  we  are  so  close,  oh  so  close, 

together: 

I  dont  know  what  God  is  about  all  day, 
But  I  guess  it's  something  mighty  good  for  us  all  and  some 
thing  to  last  forever. 


I  THINK   GOD   DOES   PRETTY  WELL 

I  think  God  does  pretty  well: 

We  growl  like  unthankful  children  about  the  world, 


348  OPTIMOS 

We  go  round  with  our  haughty  noses  in  the  air  scenting 
defects, 

We  challenge  the  ways  of  God  by  the  ways  of  men, 

We  condemn  God  without  a  hearing  and  make  light  of 
God's  troubles, 

We  cheapen  God  to  the  prices  of  the  market  and  the  codes 
of  schools, 

Yet  God  keeps  right  on  being  God  and  makes  no  answer, 

Yet  God  pushes  the  tides  along  and  holds  the  stars  to  their 
courses  and  says  nothing, 

Yet  God  sticks  very  closely  to  business  day  and  night  with 
out  a  word, 

Keeping  God's  accounts  square  to  the  last  atom  of  substance 
and  the  last  pulse  of  life. 

You  want  to  reverse  the  decisions  of  God, 

You  want  to  shift  the  universe  a  bit  to  the  right  or  to  the 

left  to  improve  its  standing, 
You  want  to  take  the  pen  out  of  God's  hand  and  sign  a  few 

checks  with  your  own  name. 
I  have  sent  a  lot  of  advice  up  to  God  in  my  time  so  I  am 

not  feeling  proud  or  superior, 
But  I  say  I  dont  think  it  ever  did  any  good  either  to  God 

or  to  me, 
And  to  tell  you  the  truth  I  would  have  been  afraid  and  tried 

to  run  off  if  God  had  taken  my  advice, 
For  I  notice  I  make  a  pretty  mess  of  disease  and  of  sex  and 

of  being  honest  here  on  the  earth, 
Getting  the  pros  and  cons  pretty  badly  tumbled  over  and 

damaged, 

And  after  sweating  and  swearing  as  I  wrestle  with  the  stub 
born  soil  of  the  common  day, 
I  am  glad  enough  to  call  in  God  to  conclude  my  chaos  with 

a  touch  of  God's  order. 


OPTIMOS  349 

When  I  look  out  over  the  harvest  field  in  the  fall  I  feel  that 

God  does  pretty  well, 
And  in  the  winter  with  winter's  snow  husbanding  the  latent 

life  of  the  ground  I  feel  that  God  does  pretty  well, 
And  when  the  spring  comes  eager  for  reproduction  and  the 

summer  passes   the   treasured  burden  along  I  feel  that 

God  does  pretty  well. 
The  priests  get  together  and  remodel  the  work  of  God  with 

a  creed, 
The  statesmen  assemble   in  legislative  halls  and  amend  the 

work  of  God  with  a  constitution, 
And   so   religion    is   lost — we    must    go    back   to    God   for 

religion: 

And  so  freedom   is  lost — we  must  go  back  to  God  for  free 
dom. 
I  looked  at  the  sunset  last  night — God  seemed  to  do  pretty 

well  there: 

And  then   I   looked  inside  myself  and  saw  even  more  won 
derful  similes  of  color  and  form:    God  seemed   to  be 

doing  pretty  well  for  me. 
It  is  easy  to  take  the  work   of  God   to  pieces — it  will  not 

resist  you, 

But  what  can  you  do  to  put  the  work  of  God  together  again? 
I  can  see  the  moon  and  the  sun  and  the  tides  made  different 

but  I  dont  know  that  I  can  see  them  made  better: 
The  tenets  of  God  are  in  physical  law  and  moral  necessity 

and  human  hate  and  love. 
I  have  my  bother  getting  God  just  correct  but  I  have  more 

bother  toeing  the  mark  with  my  uncertain  feet, 
And  while  I  wait  I  look  out  upon  the  cities  and  the  rest  of 

the  stage  and  thank  God  that  God  does  not  let  go — 
Thank  God  that  while  I  am  wondering  just  where  to  start 

to  make  matters  over, 
God  just  keeps  right  on  doing  things  in  the  old  way. 


350  OPTIMOS 

There  is  something  way  ahead  of  virtue  and  vice, 

There  is  something  way  ahead  of  mercy  and  cruelty, 

There  is  something  (strange  as  it  may  seem)  way  ahead  of 
right  and  wrong, 

There  is  something  way  ahead  of  ugliness  and  beauty, 

And  if  you  will  look  way  ahead  you  will  see  it, 

And  if  you  see  it  you  will  from  now  on  not  ask  God  to 
change  places  with  you, 

And  if  you  see  it  you  will  from  now  on  cloud  the  heavens 
with  no  more  muddy  counsel, 

For  you  will  from  now  on  know  that  in  spite  of  the  priests 
religion  does  pretty  well, 

For  you  will  know  from  now  on  that  in  spite  of  the  states 
men  freedom  does  pretty  well, 

For  you  will  know  from  now  on  that  in  spite  of  advice  God 
does  pretty  well: 

Yes,  in  spite  of  your  honest  sorrows  and  tragic  bewilder 
ments,  does  pretty  well. 

Do  you  not  see,  dear  comrade?  is  the  sun  up  in  your  world? 

Do  not  be  afraid  to  look:  the  light  will  not  hurt  you:  it  is 
full  day:  look! 

I  think  God  does  pretty  well! 


I   AM   SICK  WITH   THE   SICKNESS   OF  THE 
WORLD 

I  am  sick  with  the  sickness  of  the  world: 

I  have  followed  the  stream  up  and  down  and  seen  the  debris 

on  the  tide, 
And  I  have  heard  the  cries  of  the  failures  as  they  were  swept 

away  and  lost, 
And  I  have  seen  how  hollow  and  useless  success  was  to  its 

deceived  victims, 


OPTIMOS  351 

And  I  have  tasted  the  bitter  and  sweet  of  fame  and  found 
the  applause  of  the  crowd  drowned  in  its  groans, 

And  I  have  watched  men  go  wrong  and  when  asked  why 
they  should  go  right  have  said  I  could  give  no  reasons 
for  virtue, 

And  I  have  confused  myself  in  the  darkness  of  arguments 
and  philosophies  and  given  up  hunting  for  the  scrip- 
tured  truth, 

And  I  have  even  turned  against  love  and  accused  it  of  over- 
weighing  and  overmeasuring  its  collateral, 

And  I  have  given  up  the  radiance  of  the  skies  for  the  slime 
and  mud  of  the  swamp, 

And  I  have  called  men  back  from  their  ideals  and  set  them 
to  work  hoeing  and  digging  and  asking  no  questions  of 
the  future, 

And  I  have  sterilized  the  harvest  field  with  the  paling  cow 
ardice  of  my  despair, 

So  that  the  prospect  wherever  we  look  is  hopeless  and  offers 
us  no  compensations: 

The  faded  dreams  repudiated  with  scorn  and  sold  for  junk 
to  the  buyers  of  life. 

I  am  the  asker  of  questions: 

I  knock  at  all  doors  and  ask  questions  of  those  inside: 

I  appear  in  college  halls  and  question  the  teachers  and  stu 
dents  assembled, 

I  push  into  the  churches  and  straight  to  the  pulpit  place  and 
ask  for  God: 

(The  priests  say  God  is  out  and  I  suspect  that  God  is 
oftenest  out  to  the  churches): 

I  go  to  trade,  into  its  mad  clamor,  and  drop  my  questions 
there  tumbling  the  prices  to  chaos. 

I  ask  my  questions:  but  incomes  do  not  understand  what  I 
mean: 


352  OPTIMOS 

Only  the  soul  knows  what  I  mean  and  assents  to  my  call. 
But  the  world  is  sick:   the  world  is  in  bed:   the  doctors  are 

helpless: 
Call  me:   let  me  be  the  world's  physician — let  me  prescribe 

for  the  sick  world. 

Yes,  dear  brother:   the  world  is  sick  near  to  death. 
But  let  me  say  it:    the  faint  world  will  revive — the  world 

will  get  well: 

The  home  is  sick  in  the  tenement, 
The  well  fed  child  is  sick  in  the  starveling, 
The  judge  who  sentences  is  sick  in  the  prisoner  who   is 

sentenced, 

The  saints  are  sick  in  the  sinners, 
The  woman  beyond  pay  is  sick  in  the  prostitute: 
The  world  over  the  masters  are  sick  in  the  slaves, 
The  world  over  the  good  every  way  is  sick  in  the  bad, 
The  world  over  the  dreams  are  sick  in  the  facts: 
I   see   the   fearful   contest  going   on   around   me   giving  no 

quarter, 

All  that  should  be  beautiful  and  well  being  hideous  and  sick: 
All  everywhere  waiting  sick  until  all  everywhere  may  catch 

up  and  be  well: 

The  drag  of  the  bad  on  the  good  delaying  the  earth — 
The  drag  of  the  sick  on  the  well  holding  the  pioneers  back: 
The  well  world  waiting  sorrowfully  for  the  sick  world  to 

catch  up — 
Waiting   in   darkness  and   trembling  for  fear  the  sick  will 

never  catch  up, 
Knowing  that  if  the  sick  fail  to  catch  up  the  journey  of  the 

well  world  is  wasted. 

I  am  sick  with  the  sickness  of  the  world: 

Keep  me,  dear  world,  near  your  shuddering  heart: 

I  dont  want  to  go  on  without  you — not  a  step: 


OPTIMOS  353 

We  must  go  on  together — to  fruition  or  death:    go  on  to 
gether  or  not  at  all: 
I  see  the  light  that  will  lead  us  true:    but  if  you  do  not  see 

it  then  I  too  am  blind: 

I  have  feet  and  courage  to  bear  me  up:  but  if  your  feet  are 
sore  and  your  courage  is  gone  then  I  will  stay  with  you 
where  you  are: 

I  will  not  cut  loose,  I  will  not  disown  my  brother  pilgrims: 
The  fate  of  my  brothers  is  my  fate — the  victory,  the  defeat: 
The  love  of  my  brothers  is  my  love — the  pure,  the  profane: 
The  life  of  my  brothers  is  my  life — the  elation,  the  distress: 
The  god  of  my  brothers  is  my  god — the  care,  the  neglect. 
So  do  I  stay  close  to  my  brother  no  matter  what  happens, 
Lying  now  today  on  his  bed  of  sickness  in  pain  with  his 

pain: 
I  am  sick  with  the  sickness  of  the  world 


I    AM   WELL  WITH   THE   HEALTH    OF  THE 
WORLD 

I  am  well  with  the  health  of  the  world: 

I  have  followed  the  beaconing  lights  upstream, 

And  I   have  found   that  all  trails  pass   into  deific  seas  of 

recuperation, 
And  I   have   not  avoided  any  evidence  that  could  be  used 

against  my  vision, 
And  I  have  not  made  too  much  of  good  deeds  or  figured 

extravagantly  on  the  future, 
And  I   have   not  put  crowns  on  saints  or  sinners  perfect  or 

corrupt: 

No:   I  have  only  let  alone  that  which  God  has  let  alone, 
And  have  tried  to  make  out  after  my  own  fashion  what  time 

and  love  honestly  come  to — 


354  OPTIMOS 

Just  as  I  want  to  know  what  the  sap  in  the  tree  comes  to, 
Just  as  I  want  to  know  what  the  light  from  the  sun  comes  to, 
Just  as  I  want  to  know  what  art  comes  to  inhuman  service: 
And  so  it  is  that  I  look  forward  to  conclusions  of  joy  rather 

than  of  sorrow, 

And  while  not  wishing  to  betray  myself  with  fool  dividends 
Have  felt  that  life  is  a  safe  investment  and  need  not  humble 

itself  to  its  accusers. 

The  light  goes  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  darkness, 
And  gladness  goes  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  grief, 
And  my  friends  go  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  alone, 
And  applause  goes  out  but  I   am  not  afraid  of  the  popular 

ridicule, 

And  even  affection  goes  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  indiffer 
ence, 

And  fame  goes  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  promiscuity, 
And  life  itself  goes  out  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  death: 
Yes:  I  stand  bared,  stripped  to  the  body,  stripped  to  the  soul, 
Left  for  lost  on  the  outstretching  pathless  desert, 
With  the  skies  frowning  above  me  and  the  -earth  rocking 

under  my  feet, 
And  the  last  cry  of  human  salutation  echoing  itself  away  in 

vacuums: 

Yet,  whatever  goes  out  I  stay,  for  whatever  purpose  stay: 
Whatever  goes  out  I  remain,  unmistakable,  demanding  my 

fee: 
I,  demanding  life  and  fulness  of  life  and  being  paid  cent  for 

cent: 

I,  whatever  goes  out,  staying  here  where  I  belong,  my  foot- 
sole  planted  on  immovable  rock. 

I  do  not  bother  myself  with  intentions:  I  take  intentions  for 
granted: 


OPTIMOS  355 

I  do  not  mind  disease:   I  take  cure  for  granted: 

I  do  not  mind  poverty:   I  take  riches  for  granted: 

Nor  greed,   nor  cruelty,   nor    shame,    nor  corruption,   nor 

misjudgment — 
No  one  minds  these  as  little  as  I  do:  I  take  theopposites  of 

these  for  granted: 
And  so,  when  you  think  you  are  my  enemy  I  do  not  mind 

your  harsh  words:   I  take  my  friend  for  granted: 
And  so,   when  others  are    troubled   by   what   they  cannot 

explain  I  do  not  mind  it:  I  take  explanation  for  granted: 
For  the  seed  would  be  senseless  to  me  if  I  did  not  take  the 

harvest  for  granted, 
And  suffering  would  be  senseless  to  me  if  I   dii  not  take 

relief  for  granted, 
And  wrong  would  be  senseless  to  me  if  I  did  not  take  right 

for  granted, 
And  man  would  be  senseless  to  me  if  I  did  not  take  God 

for  granted: 
I  do  not  mind  the  dark  pits  I  who  take  the  sunlit  peaks  for 

granted, 
Even  when  I  reach  my  hand  into  the  night  taking  the  hand 

of  my  guide  for  granted, 
Even  when   I   reach   my  soul  into  the  unseen  taking  the 

parent  soul  for  granted. 

I  am  well  with  the  health  of  the  world: 

I  stay,  dear  world,  very  close  to  you,  day  and  night,  what 
ever  you  do: 

Gaily  we  start  out,  gaily  sail,  gaily  go  into  port: 

For  we  have  whispered  the  truth  to  each  other:  the  mists 
are  withdrawn:  we  are  wide  awake: 

The  puzzles  unravel:  the  diseases  unravel,  the  injustices 
unravel:  despair  unravels  in  exaltation: 

I  am  well  with  the  health  of  the  world. 


356  OPTIMOS 

YOU    KNEW   ME  WHEN   I   CAME  TO  YOU 

You  knew  me  when  I  came  to  you: 

After  all  the  others  had  turned  me  down,  after  the  darkness 

had  set  in: 
You  knew  me:   you  came  along  in  your  simple  sweet  way 

and  said:   Hello! 
I  felt  as  if  somehow  I  had  gone  to  God  and  God  had  said: 

Brother! 
It  did  not  seem  as  if  anything  else  mattered  after  you  said: 

Hello!   and  after  God  said:   Brother! 
I  did  not  look  farther:  I  felt  filled  full  and  choked  with  my 

simple  excess: 
You  did  not  make  any  fuss  over  me:   your  arms  were  wide 

open,  your  heart  was  wide  open:   I  just  slipped  in: 
First  you  stood  aloof:  just  a  little:  just  long  enough  to  give 

you  time  to  see   through  my  veiling  corruptions  and 

griefs  to  me: 
I  waited:    oh!    the  agony  of  it:    I  waited:   what  if  you  too 

had  said:   I  dont  know  you? 
But  the  smile  came  out  on  your  face:   like  a  sun  came  out: 

the  assenting  invitation:   like  a  sun  came  out: 
Then  I  knew  you  knew  me:    O  God!   you  knew  me!   your 

arms  reached,  reached,  reached,  and  included  me. 

I   went   to   God,   footsore  and  lonely,  out   of  my  battles, 

whipped,  in  dishonor: 
O  God!  dont  you  know  me?   my  cry  went  up,  up,  piercing 

severing  the  clouds: 
And  out  of  the  distance,  after  I  waited  and   trembled  and 

was  about  to  slink  away,  I  heard  the  voice:    the  voice 

said:   Brother! 

The  soldier  came  home  after  the  long  war: 


OPTIMOS  357 

He  was  dust  stained,  his  beard  was  grown  and  gray,  his  face 

was  haggard  and  worn: 
His  cause  was  the  lost  cause — lost  in  the  world  though  not 

lost  in  his  heart: 
He  came  on  heavy  feet:   he  rang  the  bell  at  the  door  and 

waited: 
The  door  opened:    the  mother,  the  wife,  the  lover,  stood 

there,  wondering,  half  afraid: 
The  man  looked  in,  looked  into  her  questioning  face:   she 

gazed  and  gazed  and  said  nothing: 

Then  his  heart  in  its  agony  cried  out:   his  heart  in  his  sob 
bing  voice:   O  God!   dont  you  know  me? 
The  woman  did  not  need  to  look  again:  the  light  broke: 

she  opened  her  arms:   she  received  and  welcomed  and 

enclosed  him: 
The  sad  sick  soldier  after  the  long  war,  the  lost  cause,  the 

trip  afoot  for  many  miles: 
She  knew  him,   she  grappled  him  madly  to  her  hungering 

and  thirsting  body:   the  lovers  were  together  again  at 

last: 
And  so  in  the  silences  silent  themselves  needing  no  words 

they  drank  life  from   each   other:    their  bodies,  their 

souls: 
O  God!  dont  you  know  me?  and  she  knew  him:  he  was  not 

turned  away:   he  had  no  farther  to  go. 

O    adored    one:    you:    you,    my    lover,    my    comrade,    my 
mother,  my  child: 

0  God!  dont  you  know  me?  cant  you  recognize  me  through 

my  scars? 

1  have  met  life  and  been  thrown  by  life:    I   have   met   love 

and  been  thrown  by  love: 

In  the  furious  give  and  take  of  the  earth  I  have  sinned  and 
fallen  and  seemed  lost  for  good; 


358  OPTIMOS 

Now  I  come  to  you:   creep  to  you  on  my  hands  and  knees: 

empty,  with  nothing  to  bring  you: 
Now  I  cry  to  you  out  of  my  broken  heart:   I  have  lost  all: 

all  but  my  love:   I  have  kept  my  love: 
O  God!    dont  you  know  me?   and  I  sink  in  the  dirt  and 

gloom  before  you,  asking,  asking: 
And  what  do  you  say  to  me,  O  adored  one?    that  I  am  to 

stay  or  to  go  on? 
And  what  do  you  say  to  me,  O  adored  one?  will  you  lift  me 

up  or  am  I  to  slip  farther  down  and  disappear? 
O  God!   dont  you  know  me?   O  God!   dont  you  know  me? 
The  tide  goes  by,  the  crowds  go  by,  the  hours  go  by:  I  wait, 

I  wait,  I  wait. 

And  there  you  found  me,  O   adored  one:   by  the  gate  you 

found  me,  in  the  storm  and  cold: 
You  found  me  just  where  they  had  flung  me,  rejecting  me 

from  their  assemblage: 
And  you  lifted  me  up,  you  took  me  with  you,  somewhere, 

I  dont  know  where: 
And  you  gave  me  yourself:  you  breathed  love  into  me  out  of 

your  plenteous  joy: 
And  I  came  around:   when  I  awoke  I  was  nestled  in  your 

arms:   you  smiled  on  me: 
My  head  was  on  your  breast:  you  had  held  me  close,  close, 

till  I  had  been  won  back  to  life: 
The  others  had  said  no:  you  had  said  yes:  they  saw  nothing: 

you  saw  all: 
And  so  you  took  me:  I  was  yours:  and  when  the  others  came 

you  shrank  from  them: 
You  were  jealous  of  this  miracle  you  had  done:  you  pushed 

the  intruders  away: 
What  were  they  to  me,  to  come  at  dawn  with  praises  after 

you  had  saved  me  through  the  impossible  midnight? 


OPTIMOS  359 

And  so  it  was  that  after  you  said:    Hello!   and  God  said: 

Brother!     I  did  not  seem  to  want  anything  more: 
Anything  more  would  have  overfilled  my  cup:  I  was  satisfied 

with  hello  and  brother:  they  gave  me  great  peace: 
You  knew  me  without  being  told  who  I  was:    through   the 

obstructing  shell  knew  me: 
You  stood  there  looking  at  me:  O  God!   dont  you  know 

me?  and  the  radiant  yes  broke  into  your  face  and  spilled 

from  your  lips: 
And  so  I  was  saved:  from  the  long  war,  saved:  from  the  lost 

cause,  saved: 
You  knew  me  when  I  came  to  you. 


YOU   DONT   LET    GO   OF  ME 

You  dont  let  go  of  me:  O  my  dear  love,  you  dont  let  go: 
Your  heart  dont  let  go:  when  I  have  felt  as  if  I  was  slipping 

down,  dont  let  go: 
In  the  questioning  nights,  in  the  questionable  days,  when  I 

reached  out  for  something  to  hold  on  to,  dont  let  go: 
You  were  always  there:   somehow  always  there:   you,  my 

love,  without  words,  in  joyous  silence: 
So  that  I  have  got  so  I  depend  on  you:  feeling  that  I  cant 

fall  beyond  your  providence: 
You  have  so  surely  forgiven  me:   when  I   deserved  to  be 

turned  away,  have  welcomed  me: 
You  have  so  surely  made  less  instead  of  more  of  my  sins:  so 

surely  made  more  instead  of  less  of  my  virtues: 
You  have  so  surely  overlooked  what  you  could  not  help  but 

see:    the   blots,    the    inexcusable   shadows:    overlooked 

them  all: 
You  have  so  surely  not  weighed  me  and  measured  me  but 

have  so  surely  just  loved  me:  so  surely,  so  surely: 


360  OPTIMOS 

Which  has  made  it  so  that  I  have  faced  life  and  its  disasters 

without  being  too  much  worried  whether  they  went  big 

or  little: 
Knowing  that  no  result  could  be  the  worst  result  as  long  as 

your  love  lasted:  no  result:  not  the  worst: 
Seeing  that  I  could  not  drop  too  far  below  for  you  to  reach 

to  me  and  pull  me  back:   though  dropping  far  and  far 

below  not  dropping  too  far: 
You,  my  savior  lover:   you,  whose  heart  has  said  its  heart's 

say  to  me  once  for  all  and  stood  by  it: 
You,  refusing  to  ask  whether  I  was  worth   it  or  not:   you, 

refusing  to  let  me  go:  worth  it  or  not,  refusing: 
You,  you,  you,  O  darling:   you,  refusing  to  let  me  go. 

It  has  seemed  that  same  way  with  God,  O  brothers:   yes  it 

has:   that  same  way: 
God  dont  seem  to  want  to  let  me  go,  either:  God  seems  to 

hold  on  to  me  the  same: 
In  all  my  wilful  neglect  of  myself  has  not  neglected  me:  in 

spite  of  my  delays  has  waited  for  me  to  come: 
Something  way  off  in  the  heavens  sent  to  me  way  here  on 

the  earth  at  the  last  minute  to  even  up  the  fates: 
Making  the  life  which  hardly  seemed  worth  while  living 

over  again  in  images  of  larger  import: 
Tempting  me  to  my  feet  once  more:   encouraging  me  to  a 

new  start:  firing  me  with  fresh  flame: 
God,    love,    delusion,    beyond   somewhere,    within,    taking 

command  when  I  dropped  the  wheel:  pulling  the  ship 

around: 
God,  making  me  feel  at  home:  the  alien  despairs  vanishing: 

I  giving  up  but  God  not  giving  up: 
So  often,  so  often:   when  I  felt  there  was  nothing  more  to 

do  rinding  the  mysterious  things  mysteriously  done  for 

me: 


OPTIMOS  361 

Lifted  out  of  myself,  out  of  the  pit,  to  a  high  place:  oh,  up, 

eternally  up,  to  where  I  may  hear  and  see  my  brothers 

again: 
It  has  seemed  that  way  with  God:  when  I  was  about  to  finish 

God  only  seemed  about  to  begin: 
Just  as  it  seemed  that  way  with  my  dear  love — that  when  I 

was  all  done  with   myself  she  was  just  commencing 

with  me: 
Has  seemed  just  that  way  with  God:   has  seemed  just  that 

same  way  with  my  dear  love:    that  same  way:   always 

that  same  way. 

When  I  say  God  you  shake  your  head  and  say  nothing:  you 

do  not  see: 

When  I  say  my  dear  love  you  shake  your  head  and  say  noth 
ing:   you  do  not  see: 
And  then  you  say:   you  must  tell  us  how  that  is:   how  God 

is:  how  your  dear  love  is:  we  do  not  see: 
And  then  you  say:  you  must  show  us  how  that  is:  how  God 

wont  let  go:   how  your  dear  love  wont  let  go:   we  do 

not  see: 
But  I  cant  tell  you  how  it  is:   I  do  not  know  how:   I  only 

know  that  it  is: 
But  I  cant  tell  you  how  God  is,  how  my  dear  love  is:  I  only 

know  that  they  are: 
And  I  do  not  need  to  prove  anything  that  is:  I  only  need  to 

prove  the  things  that  are  not. 

I  live  in  God:   I  do  not  need  to  prove  that  which  I  live  in: 

no:  living  in  it  is  enough: 
I  love  in  my  dear  love:  I  do  not  need  to  prove  that  which  I 

love  in:  no:  loving  in  it  is  enough: 
And  though  your  questions  puzzle  me  God  does  not  puzzle 

me  and  my  dear  love  does  not  puzzle  me: 


362  OPTIMOS 

I  feel  them  as  they  sustain  me:  I  feel  them  as  they  surround 

me:  I  feel  them  and  I  am  satisfied: 
I  dont  think  I  would  be  so  convinced  of  God  if  I  had  to  go 

looking  for  God  and  verifying  God: 
Or  of  my  dear  love:  I  would  not  be  so  convinced  of  my  dear 

love  if  I  had  to  go  about  looking  for  her  and  verifying 

her: 
It  is  not  having  to  turn  God  and  my  dear  love  into  a  rule 

that  makes  God  and  my  dear  love   infinitely  precious 

and  conclusive: 
I  let  you  count  it  all  up  in  figures  or  deny  the  figures:  you: 

I  am  not  interested: 
If  you  get  anything  out  of  figures  all  well  and  good:   but  I 

dont  think  I  could  ever  get  God  or  my  dear  love  out  of 

figures: 
When  I  say  God,  when  I  say  my  dear  love,  I  have  said 

enough:  there  is  no  more  to  be  said: 
When  I  say  that  God  wont  let  go  of  me,  when  I  say  that  my 

dear  love  wont  let  go  of  me,  I  have  said  enough:  there 

is  no  more  to  be  said. 

0  my  dear  love:  you  dont  let  go  of  me: 

1  let  go  of  myself:  I  give  myself  up:  I  slip  down,  down:  oh! 

where  will  I  stop? 
But  you  will  not  let  go  of  me:   you  do  not  give  me  up:   no 

matter  where  I  slip  to  you  still  hold  on  to  me:   you  do 

not  give  me  up: 
No  matter  where  death  threatens  to  take  me  to  life  still 

holds  on  to  me: 
No  matter  where  hate  threatens  to    take  me  to  love  still 

holds  on  to  me: 
Your  life,  dear  love:   your  life  holds  on  to  me:  your  love, 

dear  love:  your  love  holds  on  to  me: 
O  my  dear  love:  you  dont  let  go  of  me. 


OPTIMOS  363 

WHEN    MY   BOAT  PUTS    OUT    FROM    THE 
SHORE 

When  my  boat  puts  out  from  the  shore, 

When  the  last  word  of  love  and  of  hate  has  been  said, 

When  my  account  with  yesterday  is  all  closed, 

When  nothing  can  be  taken  off  the  total  of  its  good  and  evil, 

Then  I  can  sight  my  vision  unhindered  upon  the  wide  open 

western  world, 
Then  I  can  for  the  first  time  know  what  I  have  journeyed 

for  in  the  doubtful  years, 

Then  I  can  total  the  mortal  causes  in  an  immortal  result. 
I  do  not  know  which  I  love  most — the  shore  I  have  left  or 

the  shore  I  am  going  to: 
I  guess  I  love  both  just  the  same — that  if  I  was  ordered  to 

choose  I  could  not  choose. 
I  do  not  know  which  is  the  best  part  of  me — the  part  I  left 

behind  or  the  part  I  have  taken  along: 
I  guess  there  is  no  best  part  of  me — that  any  one  part  of  me 

is  just  as  important  as  any  other  part  of  me. 
The  look  back  is  so  sweet,  the  look  ahead  is  so  sweet, 
I  hear  so  many  I  love  calling  upon  me  to  return,  I  hear  so 

many  I  love  calling  upon  me  to  push  on. 
My  boat    goes    on    and    on,    away,    away,    away,   towards, 

towards,    towards: 
I  walk  from  bow  to  stern  and  back  again  and  regard  with 

equal  honor  the  contending  shorelines — 
What  can  I  say  to  my  heart  which  reaches  out  both  ways 

with  such  contrary  desire? 

I  do  not  seem  to  belong  to  my  receding  self  or  to  my  dawn 
ing  self  but  to  something  else  within  me: 
I  cannot  tell  what  it  is  but  it  steadies  the  keel  of  the  ship 

and  makes  the  voyage  certain. 
I  sail,  I  sail,  I  sail,  across  the  unfathomed  waters, 


364  OPTIMOS 

I  pass  ships  everywhere,  ships  of  beauty  and  hideous  ships, 

and  I  hail  them  all — 

Ships  of  love  and  hate  I  hail,  ships  of  piracy  and  philan 
thropy  I  hail, 

Hail  all  the  ships  with  abounding  and  unhesitating  love: 
They  all  belong  to  the  same  shores  and  the  same  seas  and 

bear  towards  the  same  port: 
I  hail  the  ships  that  hail  me  in  return,  I  hail  the  ships  that 

are  silent. 
Many  are  the  departures  of  the  soul,  many  are  the  arrivals 

of  the  soul, 
Many  are  there  who  suffer  agonies  seeing  loved  adventurers 

set  out, 

Many  are  there  who  throw  curses  into  the  wake  of  the  ship, 
Many  are  there  who  do  not  understand — who  shake  their 

heads  and  are  contented  with  their  usual  tasks, 
Many  are  there  who  expect  the  ship  to  go  down  in  the  alien 

sea: 
But  you,  oh  my  soul,  you  know  the  truth  and  firmly  assert 

the  truth: 
You  know  that  the  ship  could  not  go  down  and  that  there  is 

no  alien  sea. 

Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  the  deck  of  my  boat  I  walk, 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  casting  hungry  looks  back  to 

the  ancestral  haunts, 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  casting  hungry  looks  forward 

across  my  new  horizon. 
My  passage  is  paid  for  by  love — by  the  oldest  love  and  the 

youngest  love. 

Oh  loved  shores — I  say  to  you:  Good  bye! 
Oh  loved  shores — I  say  to  you:  I  am  here! 
I  do  not  feel  as  if  you  had  wronged  me,  you,  shore  that  I 

leave:  I  feel  as  if  my  work  with  you  was  done — that  is 

all. 


OPTIMOS  365 

I  do  not  feel  as  if  you  are  to  do  better  than  the  other  shore, 

you,  shore  that  I  voyage  to:   I  feel  as  if  I  had  work  to 

do  with  you — that  is  all. 
So  I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  take  sides  and  say  yes  or  no  to 

either, 
I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  speak  of  good  or  bad  or  sun  or 

shadow, 
I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  love  either  or  hate  either  try  as  I 

may  to  weigh  them  against  each  other, 
I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  abandon  my  old  love  for  any  new 

love: 
I  look  back  upon  the  retreating  shores  of  my  self  with  oh 

such  hungry  eyes  to  return, 
I  look  forward  upon  the  advancing  shores  of  my  self  with  oh 

such  hungry  eyes  to  bear  fearlessly  on: 
I  walk,  I  walk,  I  look — I  cry  my  hungry  farewells,  I  cry  my 

hungry  greetings: 
Oh  God!  which  do  I  prefer?  or  do  I  prefer  you,  God,  whose 

shadow  is  the  substance  of  all? 

My  heart  is  the  heart  of  the  past  and  will  always  be  so, 
My  heart  is  the  heart  of  the  future  and  will  always  be  so, 
When  my  boat  puts  out  from  the  shore 


I    HAVE   SAID   YES   TO    LIFE 

I  have  said  yes  to  life,  I  take  nothing  back: 

When  the  tide  has  gone  against  me  I  have  said  yes  to  life, 

In  the  hour  of  dismay  as  well  as  in  the  hour  of  conquest  I 

have  said  yes  to  life, 
When  life  has  been  quoted  against  virtue  and  justice  I  have 

said  yes  to  life, 

Is  the  battle  lost?      I  still  say  yes,  forever  yes,  to  life. 
I  went  where  evil  was  freest  and  did  its  worst, 


366  OPTIMOS 

I  went  into  the  darkest  places  where  joy  was  rated  very  low: 
Wherever  I  went  I  carried  my  yes  with  me — 
Carried  it  with  me  in  my  heart,  in  my  face,  in  my  words, 
Carried  it  with  me  when  I  stroked  the  forehead  of  the  sick 

man, 

Carried  it  with  me  cooling  the  fevers  of  the  race, 
Carried  it  with  me  tempering  the  cold  out  of  the  north — 
My  eternal  yes — the  lifeboat  setting  out  from  wrecks. 
Whatever  was  the  danger  my  yes  was  on  the  spot  immortally 

rescuing  those  who  struggle, 
My  yes  went  to  the  starving  as  food  and  drink, 
My  yes  went  to  the  surfeited  as  purity  and  abstinence, 
My  yes  went  to  those  who  stole  as  restitution, 
My  yes  went  to  the  poor  as  plenty  and  enough. 
After  beauty  is  most  beautiful  my  yes  is  more  beautiful  still, 
After  power  is  most  powerful  my  yes  is  more  powerful  still, 
After  love  is  most  loving  my  yes  is  more  loving  still, 
Whatever  is  best  and  holiest  my  yes  is  better  and  more  holy 

still. 
My  yes  does  not  go  to  cruelty  and  shame  to  absolve  cruelty 

and  shame — 

My  yes  goes  to  cruelty  as  gentleness  and  to  shame  as  recu 
peration. 

You  have  conceded  the  splendor  of  the  sun  in  the  sky — 
I  come  to  you  expecting  a  concession  to  the  superior  splen 
dor  of  my  yes,  my  yes  to  life: 
My  yes  is  the  thing   that  precedes   the  seed   in  the  ground 

and  follows  the  harvest, 
Before  my  yes  all  the  players  of  day  and  night  rehearse  their 

parts. 
Is  my  yes  to  be   made  no   in   the  fret  of  the  sorrow  of  the 

world? 

Are  you  to  bring  me  totals  of  dubious  figures  and  frighten 
my  yes  to  no? 


OPTIMOS  367 

My  yes  does  not  look  for,  it  bestows,  approval: 

It  takes  life  at  life's  best  and  life's  worst  and  remains  the 

yes  of  its  firstborn  faith, 
It  gives  itself  once  for  all  to  life  and  never  takes  anything 

back. 
Life  does  not  always  seem  to  say  yes  to  me  yet  I  always  say 

yes  to  life: 
Yes  to  life  when  I  understand  life:  yes  to  life  when  I  do 

not  understand  life: 
When  I  go  to  life  or  stay  with  life  with  my  yes  life  always 

finally  answers  yes  back. 
Are  you  afraid  to  say  yes  to  life  for  yourself? 
Do  you  stand  trembling  on  the  shores  afraid  to  put  off  upon 

the  inviting  waters? 

Beyond  me  is  my  yes  forever  carrying  me  on: 
The  yes  sailing  my  ship,  the  yes  with  forthreached  hands  at 

the  end  of  the  voyage. 
Do  you  not  see  dear  brother  how  dangerous  it  is  to  be  alone 

with  no  in  the  world? 
Do  you  not  see  dear  brother  how  safe  it  is  to  be  alone  with 

yes  in  the  world? 

Dear  brother  I  have  said  yes  to  life,  sternly  yes,  lovingly  yes, 
I  have  said  yes  to  life,  I  take  nothing  back. 


WE   ALL   SEEM   TO    BE   MOVING   TOGETHER 

We  all  seem  to  be  moving  together: 

Little  and  big,  clean  and  corrupt,  superior  and  inferior,  we 

all  seem  to  be  moving  together: 
Something  is  pushing  us  on:  back  of  us  eras  and  geaerations 

of  men:  pushing  us  on: 
Try  as  we  may  to  separate  ourselves,  to  lift  up  our  heads 

with  pride,  to  mask  and  dodge: 


368  OPTIMOS 

Try  as  we  may  we  cant  cut  loose — we  may  drift  from  the 
harbor  but  we  are  still  on  the  sea. 

It  makes  me  feel  so  big  to  feel  all  my  fathers  and  mothers 
back  of  me  pushing  me  ahead: 

It  makes  me  feel  so  little  to  feel  all  the  girls  and  boys,  my 
farthest  children,  dragging  me  into  the  illimitable  fu 
ture: 

It  makes  me  feel  so  much  like  being  all  together — all  to 
gether  with  all  of  the  others: 

It  makes  me  feel  so  much  like  being  all  together — all 
together  with  all  of  myself: 

It  does  not  make  me  free:  I  am  not  to  be  free:  but  it  is 
to  make  me  love:  I  am  to  love: 

And  so  I  am  not  unhappy  for  giving  up  what  I  never  pos 
sessed  and  getting  what  I  never  expected: 

For  the  feel  of  the  ground,  the  feel  of  the  air  we  breathe, 
is  the  feel  of  being  together: 

For  the  feel  of  the  dreams  of  my  soul  and  the  feel  of  the 
fires  of  my  body  is  the  feel  of  being  together: 

For  having  all  the  earth  to  myself  would  be  nothing  to  me 
if  I  did  not  have  the  people  inhabiting  the  earth: 

For  being  promoted  to  paradise  would  be  less  than  nothing 
to  me  if  I  was  compelled  to  receive  salvation  alone: 

We  all  seem  to  be  moving  together:  together  we  have 
meanings:  any  other  way  we  have  no  meanings: 

You  with  me,  anyone  with  anyone,  the  blackest  with  the 
whitest,  the  robber  with  his  victim: 

All,  all,  moving  together  towards  something  big  enough  and 
good  enough  for  us  all: 

Big  enough  for  all  the  little,  good  enough  for  all  the 
bad: 

Moving  together:  not  divining  why  or  to  what:  but  sure 
that  the  cause  is  sufficient,  sure  that  the  place  is  worth 
while. 


OPTIMOS  369 

There  we  were  on  the  boat   in  the  wide  river:   all  of  us 

moving  together: 
The  waters  moving  with  the  sky,  the  stars  moving  with  the 

clouds: 
Nothing  still,  nothing  dead  or  inert,  nothing  tired  or  worn 

out: 
The  mountains  as  fresh  every  morning  as  the  day  they  were 

heaped  up  out  of  the  first  fires: 
Everything   moving  with   everything:    the  earth   in  space: 

distance  itself  with  time: 
Nothing  left  behind:   not  a  shred  or  a  patch:   not  a  derelict 

or  an  outlaw: 
Worlds  within  worlds  moving,  moving:   souls  within  souls 

moving,  moving: 
Light   moving  with   darkness,   the   past   moving  with   the 

present: 
The  dead  moving  with  the  living:   even  the  dead:  the  dead 

not  lost,  either:  moving,  moving: 
Across  the  streams  and  the  lands  moving:  across  the  heavens 

moving:  all  with  all: 
The  endless  procession,  the  march  of  eternities,  the  pilgrim 

deliverance:  moving,  moving: 
Out  of  all   into  all,  out  of  nothing  into  nothing:    moving, 

forever  moving: 
Not  stopping  to  argue  or  separate:   not  waiting  for  anyone 

or  anything  to  catch  up: 

Knowing  that  all   is  moving  together:  whether  a  little  be 
hind  or  in  advance  what  does  it  matter? 
Knowing  that  though  we  fight  we  move  together:   or  enjoy 

or  suffer,  move  together: 
You  with  me,  dear  brother:  you  with  me:  listen  to  me  as  I 

say  it:  moving  together: 

Making  all  the  isolations  useless:  making  all  cloisters  blas 
phemous: 


370  OPTIMOS 

Moving,   moving:    all    together:    all   in    the   same   course: 

moving,  moving: 
Farthest  moving  with  nearest,  oldest  moving  with  youngest, 

together,  together: 
Into   the  enclosing   darkness,  into   the  emancipating  light, 

moving,  moving,  together: 
Enemies  and   friends,   saints  and   sinners,   beginnings   and 

endings,  all  moving  together: 
Without  reason  yet  with  the  best  of  reasons,  passing,  repass- 

ing,  in  tireless  journeys: 
Moving,  moving,  moving:   together,  together,  together. 

We  all  seem  to  be  moving  together:  what  other  way  is  there 

to  move? 
The  whole  body  and  spirit  of  the  globe  undergoes  a  change 

with  the  simplest  word  I  speak: 
I  take  a  single  step:  all  life  and  death  are  recast  in  the  ebb 

and  flow  of  my  desire: 
There  is  no  loss  but  all  lose:   there  is  no  gain  but  all  gain: 

we  move  together: 
There  is  no  love,  no  lack  of  love,  but  all  love,  but  all  lack 

love,  in  the  current  of  the  common  sea: 
Something  is  moving  us  on:   something  that  includes  us  all 

— that  sweeps  us  all  into  its  competent  span: 
Something  is  moving  us  on:   something  that  after  it  has 

passed  has  left  no  debris  behind: 

Something   is  moving  us   on:    something  that   takes  no  ac 
count  of  castes — that  only  takes  account  of  love: 
Something  is  moving  us  on:   all  of  us,  with  one  intention: 

something  finally  hospitable: 
Something    is   moving   us   on;    something   that  after  death 

moves  on  to  life  once  more  without  stopping: 
Something  is  moving  us  on:  I  feel  it:  its  arms  embrace  me: 

its  kiss  is  on  my  lips: 


OPTIMOS  371 

Something  is  moving  us  on:  a  personal  something:  a  you  or 
a  me:  keeping  me  always  closest  to  itself: 

Something  is  moving  us  on:  we  all  seem  to  be  moving  to 
gether. 


No  dream  is  wasted  in  the  last  stretch  of  the  day, 

No  soul  is  lost  in  the  final  count  of  the  race: 

The  old  negations  are  denied,  the  guards  of  life  and  death  are  dis 
missed,  the  long  distrusted  stream  is  left  to  its  course: 

Gods  who  disown  men  are  self  crucified:  no  hell  is  so  black  as  the 
court  that  condemns  men  to  it. 

Service  is  self  benediction,  rule  is  self  restraint. 


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